


Someone to share it with

by Strain_of_the_Stress



Series: Finding the Path [1]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strain_of_the_Stress/pseuds/Strain_of_the_Stress
Summary: Wes Ryder, reluctant pathfinder, is thrown into a position responsible for 20,000 lives with 0 training and only some moxy and determination to go off of. Vetra, a smuggler who raised her sister on her own from an early age, is in the galaxy to make a new go of it, see who she can be with billions of lightyears between her and her old life. When their paths cross, these two find in each other first friendship, and then eventually romance. These are the between the lines scenes, the ones which the story didn't cover, which take them from colleagues to friends to the most adorable ship in the new galaxy.





	1. Pathfinder Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes and Vetra start building their friendship.

Tempest, 2100 Hours

 

“Pathfinder?”

The request came quietly but confidently from the door, filling the room which had previously heard only the white noise of FTL Travel. Wes kept the door open when he was working, thought it promoted “A truly open door policy” as one of his old CO’s once said.

The newly minted pathfinder was sitting at his desk, skimming through pages of a manual he never thought he’d have to read: “Andromeda Initiative Publication 06P1: Pathfinder’s Duties and Responsibilities”. The manual closed automatically as Ryder pushed his chair back, seeing Vetra standing in the door, her head turned slightly as she looked around for him.

“Vetra, what’s up?”

Vetra looked his way, the Turian’s visor flickering momentarily as he could see it bring up info on him, what looked like a small picture and block of text scrolling beside her eye.

“Wanted to get some requisitions past your desk. Normally I don’t bother you about these things, but it’s weapons and ammo, figure you’d wanna take a look at that.”

Wes laughed as he stood up, turning to pick up his omnipresent coffee mug before gesturing at the couch, Vetra nodding thanks before taking a seat.

“We just left the Nexus, haven’t even seen Eos yet, and you’re already buying guns and ammo?”

“What can I say? My job is to keep us ready for everything, including when things go south.”

“Well, after Habitat 7, I think that’s much appreciated.”

Vetra handed Ryder the datapad, sitting back and crossing her legs while Wes picked it up, setting it to automatic scroll as he read and sipped his coffee. Silence passed between them as he read.

“If you need anything else, let me know. Specialty arms are a little hard to come by on the Nexus; didn’t exactly pack for a war. But, I know a few people, back channels and all.”

Ryder set the terminal down, exhaling as he wiped his hand over his eyes and through his hair, looking bleary eyed back at Vetra.

“No, it all looks fine to me. I don’t think we’re going to need too much. At least, I hope we won’t.”

Ryder stood up, holding his coffee as he walked around the cabin, looking at the bulkheads, the faux-wood floor, the windows to the view outside, stars rushing past at FTL speeds. Vetra watched him from her seat, the datapad tucked casually under her crossed legs.

“It’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it?”

Vetra cocked her head, one of her brow plates raised slightly at Ryder’s comment.

“What, the ship?”

“That. But also all this. Andromeda, Heleus, the initiative…”

“The pathfinder?”

Wes exhaled slightly through his nose, laughing as he closed his eyes and bowed his head a little bit, looking up to stare forward out of the cabin’s massive windows.

“Yeah. The Pathfinder.”

A sip of coffee.

“When we came to Andromeda… when I came to Andromeda, I came for myself. Yeah, my sister and dad were with me, but I came mostly because _I_ was curious, because _I_ wanted to see what was out here. Dad was the pathfinder, he was the one who wanted to lead people, wanted that responsibility; I think part of that was his time as an N7. But I didn’t want that.”

Wes paused, taking a long sip of his coffee before looking out again, his eyes glassy as both hands cupped the metal coffee mug, the warmth comforting. Vetra stood up, the datapad forgotten on the couch as the sound of slow steps brought her behind Ryder, her reflection slightly visible to him as she cocked her head, matching his gaze to the stars ahead. She crossed her arms and tilted her head as she listened to Ryder, glancing at the reflection of his face every once in a while, sometimes down at the deck plating between them.

“I was ready to see what was here, to find what we had never found before, and I think my sister might have been the same way. But all of the sudden, Dad’s dead, still don’t know if I’ve come to terms with that, and I’m the pathfinder. There are 35,000 people on the Nexus; 35,000 people looking to me for a new home, for a life in a foreign, probably hostile galaxy; 35,000 people who don’t know… who I don’t know if I can care for or not. And in front of them, I’ll be the confident path finder they need, but personally? I just don’t know.”

Silence hung between them as the hum of the engine got almost imperceptibly higher, the stars rushing by slightly faster. Ryder’s gaze was glossy and distant, his eyes not focusing on the stars in front of him as his thoughts tumbled through his head, tired and confused and scared, but strangely peaceful for the vibration of the engine at his feet, the sight of the stars in front of him.

Vetra shifted her weight slightly, the creak of her armor stealing Wes from his Reverie as he visibly started, a small bit of coffee spilling onto the platform beneath his feet. He turned around, smiling melancholically at her as he spoke, closing his eyes for slightly longer than a blink before picking the datapad up from the couch and handing it to her.

“And look at me, telling all you this. You don’t need to hear this. Yeah, those requisition orders look fine, and if you happen to find a pathfinder while you’re at it, bring her on board. Maybe she’ll be better at keeping a good face than I am.”

Vetra took the datapad, looking down at it as she locked it before walking forwards, standing abreast of Ryder as she looked to the stars, Ryder turning around again to match her gaze, taking another sip of the black coffee.

“You know, Ryder, I talk to a lot of people. It’s most of what my job is. And if there’s one thing which I think they need, it’s hope. Everyone came here sold on a new home, a paradise, a ‘Golden World’ on which to start new, and what they got was a mysterious death cloud and worlds which could barely support a krogan. Hope is what pushed the Nexus into uprising, what makes everyone so cynical. If nothing else, you’ve brought hope back. While it may not put food on the table or ground under feet, that counts for a lot.”

Wes inhaled deeply through his mouth and blew it out his nose as he listened, weighing the words against his own guilt of unpreparedness.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. I was there for the uprisings; I saw them happen. And what caused them was a lack of hope. People seeing nothing but an empty space and a 600 year long conn game. But with a pathfinder, no matter how inexperienced he may be? There might be something out here yet. Besides, you’ve got the best team I could find, and the best ship I could save. If nothing else, we’ll make sure _something_ happens.”

Wes laughed weakly, another sip of coffee. Vetra looked at him, her mandibles open in a sympathetic Turian smile.

“I won’t say don’t worry about it, pathfinder. There’s plenty to worry about in a new galaxy with hostile aliens and an energy cloud that is trying to kill us. But, have hope. You’re a pathfinder, and it sounds like your Dad knew what he was doing when he chose you.”

Scott smiled again, closing his eyes again.

“Thanks, Vetra.”

“Talking’s what I do. And besides, if nothing else, I’ve learned that I should be worried about that… whatever it is you’re drinking, not guns. By the looks of it, that’s your fourth cup.”

Vetra gestured over her shoulder at the two empty caraffes sitting on Ryder’s desk. He laughed, sipping again. His tone was jocular, again, the mix of confident professionalism with a hint of sarcasm, the pensive tone of before passing like a storm over a lake.

“Six, actually, and it’s called coffee. Humans drink it to stay awake, it’s got a decent caffeine content and a flavor you can really learn to love. I’ll bet the Nexus has some sort of Turian equivalent, if you want. I know I’m half addicted.”

Vetra walked over to the desk, picking up a carafe and putting it to her nose, recoiling as she smelled it. Her mandibles opened with unabashed disgust as she looked inside, a slightly horrified look finding Ryder as she spoke.

“What do you make it out of? This shit smells like a Pyjak’s Spit!”

Ryder walked towards her, laughing.

“Coffee beans. You let the water steep in them. I’ll show you sometime. But, for now, I need some sleep. I don’t think I’ve let off the accelerator since SAM node.”

Vetra nodded, walking towards the door, the automatic latch beeping as it opened for her, neither her not Ryder having noticed it had closed. Wes spoke, right before she got to the door.

“Vetra?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, Pathfinder.”

“Call me Ryder. Or Wes. Pathfinder’s just a title.”

Vetra paused, looking down with what might have been consideration, had Ryder known Turian faces better.

“We’ll see about that. You know where to find me.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I finally finished Andromeda... played through most of it in two days. And coming off of it... I can't wait to sink my teeth into it. It's definitely a different beast than ME1-3, but I'm excited to tackle it. 
> 
> Wanted to get a jump on the game and all the characters early, so I wrote this about 2 hours after finishing my first play through. I know, it's not the best thing I've ever written;but I promise it all gets better.
> 
> Comments would be loved (and useful), kudos are great, and above all else: enjoy!


	2. Off the Cliff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes deals with some of the added responsibilities of being a pathfinder.

Eos, 1100

The barren desert of Eos stretched hugely in front of them. From their view on the plateau, Vetra and Ryder could see a vast expanse of rocks and sand to the south, large formations poking out of the flat ground like bones of a long lost creature. Hot air rose from the sands beneath their feet, laden with the oppressive smell of centuries of barren heat, the dust filling their lungs with every breath. Ryder alone had drank five gallons of water since touching down, and even still his mouth was always dry, the chalk in his throat catching his voice and aging him, sounds of decades given in minutes.

The edge of their chosen plateau brought a steep drop, the hundreds of feet below masked by the uniformity of the sand beneath, an illusion of safety, much like the rest of the planet. What had seemed simply an arid climate was a sand-blasted wasteland of radiation, wind storms, and seemingly everything a planet could do to break modern technology. Where settlers had once judged water potable and the empty desert a new home sat only the broken remains of hope. Vetra stepped to the edge, looking over to peer at the sand below.

“Fifty credits says we make it.”

Vetra turned around, the pathfinder sweating in his hard suit behind her. While his eyes were hard to make out behind the tinted mask, the false confidence of his voice and the hands on his sideways cocked hips was unmistakable.

“You’re gonna have to bet a lot more to convince me to go over _that_ in that death trap with you.”

“Fine, one hundred credits.”

Vetra narrowed her eyes at Ryder, her visor sensing the motion and giving a more detailed read-out. She scanned his stats, wishing she had paid more attention in the multi-species anatomy orientation in the Milky Way before departing. Still, bluffing looked the same in every species.

“You know, Pathfinder, I can’t tell if I want to call you on your bluff or point out that we’re looking for Remnant installations, not dare-devil jumps.”

“Who says I’m bluffing?”

“Please. I’ve faked my way through plenty of situations in my time. The first rule of bluffing your way through something: you have to be at least somewhat able to deliver: If they call your bluff, you need to at least have some sort of way out. And the only way I see you getting out of this one is on a stretcher with a furious Lexi next to you.”

“God, that sounds horrifying.”

Vetra turned from the pathfinder, looking intently at the Nomad behind them. Specs on every aspect of the machine, from its drive train to its body material flashed in front of her, until eventually the one she needed appeared: “Max Fall: 300 d, Standard G”. A quick glance at the pathfinder found him distracted by the view beside them, his resolution for making the jump apparently not strong enough to keep his interest. Vetra walked to the gap, pointing her visor at the ground, a the upper left hand corner of her field of view setting it to marksman mode: “Range: 268 d”. A small smirk crawled over her face.

“You know what, fine, I’ll take your bet.”

Wes turned around, the stunned look visible even through the blue tinted helmet.

“What?”

The Turian swaggered towards him, her mandibles flaring as she smelled the blood.

“You heard me. I’ll take your bet. 100 Credits, if we survive that jump. But…” A single Turian finger went up “If you chicken out, you have to back me up in a deal of my choosing.”

Ryder’s eyes darted wildly as Vetra laughed internally, watching the pathfinder fidget. He walked with urgent speed, trying not to show how nervous he was, to the side of the cliff, before staring back at the Nomad, his omnitool coming up to show a few frantic calculations. Vetra could see his heart rate rise as he walked forwards, extending a hand which was quickly taken.

“Alright. Fine. Let’s do it.”

Vetra gestured to the waiting Nomad.

“Yes, let’s.”

Ryder walked to the doors of the vehicle with the same mix of fake calm and underlying terror, his hands doing a poor job of concealing their shaking as he secured the five point harness on the seat. Vetra climbed in after him, confidence oozing as she sat smugly in the passenger seat, her self-satisfied grin not leaving her face as she strapped herself in. She usually made it a habit not to let associates see her win or lose – If they never see both, they’ll never know when they’ve witnessed either. But she had the pathfinder cornered, a little bit of smugness seemed appropriate.

The electrical drive of the vehicle purred as they backed away from the cliff, the vehicle stopping as Vetra turned to see the pathfinder staring ahead with fixed eyes, his hands twitchy on the wheel. Without warning the vehicle lurched forwards, the engine screaming as the boost jets exploded behind them, the movement forcing Vetra into her chair as the Nomad flew off the plateau, the boost jets firing as soon as the wheels left the ground.

For an instant, Vetra could see as everything in the cabin experienced a brief moment of weightlessness, the straps from the pathfinder’s and her armor floating up around them, the familiar fall in her stomach as her body lost track of gravity. Then, the gut-dropping feeling of a fall returned as she watched the sky and surroundings flash past through the window, the ground rushing towards them with alarming speed. The boost jets engaged one last time, a mere 50 yards from the ground as her comms sounded over the racket of the rushing wind and the still running engine, the pathfinder yelling at the top of his voice:

“Oh Shi…”

 

Tempest Med-bay, 1230

“And what was it again that convinced both of you that throwing the Nomad off the cliff was a good idea?”

Dr. T’Perro’s soft voice sounded smoothly through the medical bay, but not without the biting edge of a parent’s reprimand. Wes and Vetra were sitting facing each other, Ryder with a cast over his arm, Vetra a healing pad on her neck. Silence passed momentarily between the two as they looked at each-other, trying to figure out how to answer. Dr. T’Perro called again, incredulously.

“Well?”

Vetra tried first.

“We were on top of a plateau and saw something at the bottom… going off was just the most direct route.”

Dr. T’Perro’s laugh, though soft, did nothing to make the two feel any less like scolded children.

“Vetra, while I’m sure you’re not technically wrong, I have a suspicion that’s not quite the full story. Ryder, would you care to give it a try?”

The pathfinder fidgeted with his armor under suit for a pit, scraping dust out of one of the crevices, decidedly avoiding eye contact. When he finally did meet Dr. T’Perro’s gaze, the faux casualness in his voice was unmistakable for nerves.

“Well, doc, truth be told we were all getting a little bored and frustrated down there. Liam had wanted to stick around Site 1 and keep investigating there, so Vetra and I went off to the plateau and I bet her that we could make it. Pure and simple.”

“I didn’t ask what happened, Ryder. I want to know why.”

Set on his heels, Ryder’s eyes darted from side to side, occasionally making eye-contact with Vetra and cursing his poor ability to read Turian faces. Eventually, an answer came out, cautiously.

“I dunno doc, I just… I guess I wanted to have a little fun. I did stupid shit like this more often than I’d like to admit back in my Alliance days. I guess… I guess the stress of the past two days has just been a bit much, needed to relieve the pressure a bit, you know?”

Dr. T’Perro’s lips became a line as she nodded slowly, clearly considering Ryder’s answer. She walked between the two, looking between the datapad which had been in her hand and the wall terminal as she input medical data, her silence weighing heavily on the two figures behind her. The sound of the Tempest’s HVAC system filled the room before Dr. T’Perro turned around, setting the datapad on the bed and crossing her arms as she spoke.

“Be it no place of mine to tell you how to do your job, Pathfinder, it is my place to monitor the health of this crew, mentally and physically. And, whether you like it or not, you as the Pathfinder affect the welfare of this crew, and ultimately the initiative overall…”

“I know.”

The interruption from Ryder came suddenly, quietly. His voice, though not loud, commanded the room with the gravitas it held, the hours of solemn contemplation and personal reconciliation that had been told in the two words. Vetra’s mandibles twitched, Dr. T’Perro paused, levelling Ryder with scroupulous eyes. Ryder continued.

“I know that this is my responsibility. I know that I’m the pathfinder now, that I have to ‘lead the initiative’ and find a home for everybody. Trust me, Doc, I know what that means.”

Dr. T’Perro’s voice was steady, less aggressive, though no less firm. It demanded to be heard in a soft tone of the authority which can come only from wisdom and expertise,

“I’m sure you understand the responsibility, Ryder, but I’m not certain you understand the scope of it. The disillusionment which has spread, through the Nexus when the arks failed to arrive and through Hyperion when Habitat 7 was a bust, has left people desperate for a role model, a leader, an example. A pathfinder, no matter how new or unintended, is automatically that leader. Through not just your words, but your actions and reactions, you set the attitude and tone for this ship, if not the whole initiative. This doesn’t mean you have to be invincible, if anything a touch of fallibility would aide in empathetic emotional response useful to leaders. But it does mean you have to watch what you do – things like jumping off a cliff with the Nomad – carefully, and consider what they mean.”

The hum of the HVAC returned to the medical bay, filling the space, smothering any response which could come. Ryder was staring blankly into the distance through the deck plating, his eyes glossy and thoughtful, almost unblinking. Words sat on the edge of his tongue, protests of circumstance and excuses of situation, but they all fell mute when put against the importance his title gave his actions. Dr. T’Perro broke the silence with her data pad, the electronic chirps and whirrs grating against the mellow background as she input data into the incident report, stopping eventually to speak.

“Now, as far as I’m concerned you sustained your injury by falling at great height. Not wrong, and nobody needs to know anything else. I would encourage you, though, to consider what your actions say to those around you.”

Ryder and Vetra, sensing their clue to leave, stood up and walked towards the door.

“Oh, and Ryder?”

The pathfinder turned around to see a small smile on the Asari’s face.

“Please remember that ‘Max Drop’ refers to the vehicle’s structural integrity, not the damage caused when a human arm violently makes contact with a Turian’s neck?”

 

Pathfinder’s Quarters, 2200

The coffee warmed Ryder’s mind as he poured over the data reports from the Remnant installations, the words scrolling past his eyes with seeming no exchange of information. His specialty was in reconnaissance and scouting, not data management, and certainly not in xenoengineering. The information in front of him might as well have been a foreign language, but with Tann asking for a report on his findings, he had convinced himself that reading up on Remnant Tech would be useful. That conversation with himself had happened 6 hours ago.

A small chime from the door drew his bleary eyes from the illuminated screen, the display turning off automatically as he pushed his chair back, swiveling and standing up in it, a drop of coffee falling unnoticed on his pants. Vetra stood at the door, her eyes scanning the room again, despite this being her second visit.

“Vetra, please, come in. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to level with you. Figure we survived the fall, and you didn’t chicken out.”

Ryder laughed, shaking his head as he gestured Vetra farther into the room, even her informal Turian upbringing telling her not to enter farther into a room without superior’s performance. His voice was laden with equal parts embarrassment, bemusement, and shame as he spoke conversationally to her, a slight undertone of disappointment sneaking in at the end.  

“Please, don’t. You heard what Lexi said: I shouldn’t have even done it in the first place.”

Vetra shook her head, drawing her omnitool up and keying in a transfer of credits to Ryder, his omni lighting up shortly thereafter.

“Pathfinder, I was there, it doesn’t matter whether I saw it or not. Besides, a bet is a bet. I keep my word.”

Ryder laughed, picking his coffee up to his mouth to take a sip, setting the cup down gently on a spot on the table which was coffee stained enough, it was clear to anyone how much time Ryder spent reading reports on the couch.

“Fair enough. Fair enough. Just, please don’t tell the rest of the crew? I feel bad enough for having done it, period, not to mention if everybody heard about it.

“Don’t worry, pathfinder, they won’t hear it from me.”

“Good.”

The conversation died abruptly, neither party believing it to be over, but neither knowing where to go next. Eventually, Ryder broke the silence, his voice slightly unsure again, embarrassed about his own insecurities now instead of his own mistakes.

“I really should have thought like this sooner. What was I thinking, driving the Nomad off a cliff… Lexi is right, I do set the example. I just hope I can set the example the initiative needs.”

Vetra’s response was calm, assured, as if she spoke of things she already knew. Since discovering the possibility of a new outpost on Eos, she had seemed to be downright hopeful, a window of idealism peeking out past her characteristic utilitarian realism.

“You’ll be able to. Heroes always emerge, whether they’re born or made. And I figure, with the title pathfinder, and being the last one’s son? You’ve already got a head start on two.”

Ryder shrugged, worry passed off unconvincingly as casual devil-may-care.

“Thanks Vetra, we’ll see. Figure we’ll all making mistakes together. Only difference is, sometimes mine have bigger consequences.”

Vetra nodded, walking to the door before turning around and saying

“You know, Ryder, I was there for the cliff jump, and I’m pretty good at keeping my mouth shut. If you ever need to do something stupid again, just call me up. I’ll keep quiet.”

Ryder’s chuckle was the first of genuine humor Vetra had heard, and his face seem relaxed at the humorous offer. Vetra made her way through the door, but the two kept talking ntil she was half-way down the corridor, yelling across the open door.

“What happened to that laser focus?”

“It’s my job to get you everything you need, if that means time and means to do stupid shit, who am I to stop you.”

“That’s the most roundabout way to justify driving off a cliff I’ve heard, but I’ll take it. Have a good night, Vetra.”

“You too, Ryder. You know where to find me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, rather than scrapping or changing the previous chapter, I decided the addition was long enough it could be its own chapter. I realize the first part is a bit fluffy, but I'm trying to strike a balance between fluff and serious. Reardless, I hope I can work on the whole "building romance" aspect of these two through this story. I'm usually good at pre-existing relationships, but in them... that's when I have a hard time.
> 
> So, as always, read and enjoy! And comments would be awesome


	3. Break or break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes gives the crew some leave time after establishing the outpost on Eos.

To:  All Hands

From:  Ryder

 

Like I said in our meeting, great job on Eos. It truly was a team effort, and you should all be very proud of everything we accomplished there (from terraforming a world to not dying, great job all around). I received a message from Director Tann saying that our return to the Nexus will be greeted enthusiastically; I know I don’t need to tell you all just how much this means for the initiative.

I’ve been told by Gil and Kallo that The Tempest is going to be down for a day or so once we hit the Nexus, so consider yourselves on shore leave for 36 hours once we hit the Nexus. Try to stay out of trouble, relax and celebrate a bit, and come back ready to hit the ground – or rather the cluster – running again at the end.

* * *

 

Crew Message Board Comments:

Who wants to go to Vortex? I’ll buy the first round. [Liam]

Wait, is Vortex a bar? I have been out of the loop. I’ll buy second round. [PeeBee]

You clearly haven’t seen what the Krogan think of as a “round”. [Drax]

I have time reserved on a training field in the Health Center if anybody would like to join me. [Cora]

Despite the large quantity of physical exercise seen on missions, dedicated physical training is important for your health. [T’Perro]

Yeah, Vortex sounds like fun. [Gil]

 

 

* * *

Tempest, Docked at Nexus, 1326

A box of “BlastOh’s” lie on the floor next to her desk, the inside a tomb, standing in testament of the food which once resided inside. Emails and responses slid by as Vetra’s eye’s wavered, the words on the terminal sliding in and out of focus as she struggled to keep reading them. She had been working for hours, since Ryder’s email, in fact (which she hadn’t yet bothered to read), trying to get supplies for the crew – _I need the “supplies” for Drax, Cora wants some more shotgun mods, those armor mods for Liam might be tricky, but it won’t matter if I can’t find these replacement parts for the Nomad._

Their success on Eos had been exhilarating. The crew was all smiles and compliments as the colonists arrived, and the almost hysteric feeling of euphoria had slid right into that night, a clearing in the outpost soon home to one of the first proper celebrations in Andromeda. So proper a celebration, in fact, that Liam’s head still didn’t feel normal. Vetra had participated in the festivities, her hope ran just as deep as anyone’s, and came as just as much of a relief after months of the hopeless emptiness of space staring at them, at her, where arks and pathfinders were supposed to be. But she knew, more keenly than most, that there was always more work to be done. Her mind crawled back to the years she had spent working two even three jobs as her body crawled back on to the Tempest, remembering the long days and longer nights as 13-year-old Vetra had tried to support her little family of two.

The list of acquisitions seemed endless – it always did. The Tempest was far from a well-tuned machine: the pathfinder still seemed to be figuring himself out, not to mention his role as pathfinder; Cora kept saying she was over getting usurped at Alec’s decision but the occasional outburst at a punching bag said otherwise. Lexi still didn’t seem to be able to comprehend just how many injuries a field team could sustain, and PeeBee still seemed tempted to use her escape pod of an apartment. But through it all, they all understood one thing: Vetra was the lifeline of the entire operation. Through months of hopeless stagnation, after an uprising and subsequent resumption of command, the supply lines on the Nexus had been turned into a nexus themselves, confusing twists and turns of bureaucracy standing between the ship and it’s necessary supplies. Vetra’s back channels, though, were a much needed life-line. And she, and everybody else knew it. It drove them to her office whenever they needed anything, and it drove her through nights of “Turian stimulant A113” and emails.

A knock at the door woke the Turian from a reverie she hadn’t realized she was taking, the familiar blue of the visor snapping to life as she looked away from the screen, the IFF read-out appearing shortly after Ryder started talking.

“Vetra, you busy?”

“I’m always busy, Pathfinder. But, if there’s something you need, I’m all ears.”

Ryder walked in, his outfit the same grey, black, and blue uniform he had designated for himself. While Alec’s clothes had always sported the familiar black and red coloring of his prided N7 rank, Wes refused to adopt the colors, calling them “An N7’s colors, not a pathfinder’s”. Instead, he had colored a standard Initiative uniform slightly darker, with a black collar and grey main panels. He carried with him what looked like a duffel bag.

“I don’t need much, just to know what you plan on doing on the Nexus while we’re here.”

Vetra laughed, turning her chair and standing to face Ryder.

“What, you taking role-call now?”

“Something like that. I figured I should know where everybody is. That way when Drack or Liam get in a fight, I know where to be worried.”

“That’s awfully pessimistic.”

Ryder glanced sideways, awkwardly shaking his head and pursed lips.

“That was... meant to be funny. Anyways, what are you doing?”

Vetra’s mandibles flared before snapping tightly to the side of her mouth, her tired eyes closing as Ryder drifted out of focus – _I really need another stimulant. Or a 15 minute cat-nap –_ she ran her hand over the top of her fringe, scratching it gently with her gloved hands.

“I’m staying here. Too much to do to take a break. I can get a lot done with 24 hours.”

The pathfinder leveled Vetra with a look she was sure was intended to be disapproval, but somehow hit a tone much closer to confusion.

“Vetra, your terminal history says out of thepast 36 hours you’ve worked for 30 of them. You need a break.”

Vetra shook her head, laughing breathily as she spouted all the justifications to keep working she had been telling herself for years.

“Yeah, but I need to keep working. The Tempest doesn’t supply itself, and we need the supplies.”

Ryder sighed slightly, shaking his head before looking around, his gaze setting on the empty cereal box on the ground before a small chuckle escaped his mouth. Vetra continued to watch him as a sideways grin made its way onto his face, and he met her eyes, an odd twinkle of what might have been called mischeviousness in his gaze.

“Do Turian’s work out?”

“What do you mean?”

“Working out. Physical Training. Do Turian’s do that?”

Vetra’s bow plates dropped and her mandibles spread as she gave Ryder a thoroughly confused look.

“Yes? It’s usually a part of a Turian’s childhood, especially when they enlist. I didn’t do a whole lot, though.”

“Do you have clothes?”

“What do you mean?”

“Workout clothes? Did you bring any?”

“Usually turians just workout in their armor.”

“You all have armor? What about the civilians?”

Vetra laughed, the question seeming stupid and obvious, though less so when a human background was considered.

“A Turian’s armor is their social status: it bears their rank on it and scars from battle. Most are given their armor as a parting gift when they discharge. There are a few events – councils, wedding assemblies, so on – where armor is the acceptable outfit. I pieced my set together from what I could find, though.”

Ryder’s head seemed to recoil as his face made an odd human expression Vetra couldn’t place, something between amazement and bewilderment, with one eyebrow and a corner of his mouth shooting upwards on his face.

“Huh. Alright. Good to know, I guess.”

Ryder looked up, thoughtfully, then opened his duffel bag and looked inside, his brows furrowed as Vetra could practically see plans broken down and rearranged in his head. After a pause, he spoke.

“Alright, I’ll go suit-up in my armor. Meet me at this nav-point” Ryder brought up his omnitool and a location popped up on Vetra’s “in 45 minutes. Bring water.”

 

Nexus Apollo Commons, 1420

Vetra looked around the empty common area as she waited for Ryder, the space dark and empty. The HVAC system was barely operational here – just enough to keep air moving – and the majority of the space was still being used as storage – crates and containers of supplies strewn around where walkways and shops eventually would be. The trees had yet to be brought out of bio-stasis, and their trunks glowed with the stasis nanobots.

The area was similar in theme to the docking bay – a simulated sky available above, though the ceiling was currently a blank grey, trees planted around and various benches, meeting areas, and tables strewn around. It was a long area, 150 meters in length and approximately 50 in width, walkways the room oriented to the main rotation axis of the Nexus. The entire area had a balcony running around it with what looked like storefronts leading onto it, stairs leading to it at regular intervals, a few maintenance ladders still mounted. Panels were missing from the floor in places, the metal of the floor skeleton peeking out as an industrial reminder that, not even two years ago, this station was a collection of parts brought in the biggest freighter ever built. The entire space smelled of stagnation, of waiting, and the dust on the floor showed just how long it had been since people had worried about it, building it to put off the frenetic worry of survival before abandoning it in mind and body. The door sounded as Ryder stepped out of the tram.

“Vetra, glad to see you’re already here.”

“Pathfinder, mind telling me what this is all about?”

The pathfinder laughed, fiddling with his omnitool as he spoke, the lights and HVAC systems in the space springing to life at his command.

“Well, loathe as I am to say it, Lexi is right – we do need some exercise. I was gonna take the opportunity to work out today anyways, but seeing as you’re determined to lock yourself in that closet of yours all day long, I figured you could use a little tiring R&R as well.”

Ryder began to stretch as he finished his sentence, Vetra’s response slightly annoyed at what seemed like the charity work, her mind still fixed on all the emails she could answer in the time she was spending here.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I have a lot of work to do. There’s orders to place, deals to…”

Ryder cut her off, still bent over for his stretch.

“We all have work to do. Trust me, you don’t want to know how many unread emails I have at my terminal. But part of my job is to look out for the crew’s welfare, and that includes you. Work is important, yeah. But you can’t work yourself raw all the time and expect to still be productive. You need a break. Besides, just as a person you need a break, for your sanity.”

Vetra’s glare burned holes in the back of Ryder’s head as he continued to stretch, but he ignored the heat he instinctually felt there, instead beginning to stretch his legs as he looked around at the space, evaluating the lay-out, clearly looking for something.

Vetra broke the silence, her voice reluctantly resigned.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What are we doing, then.”

Ryder continued to look around, planning. Eventually, after a few pauses, he spoke.

“Obstacle course. This part of the station has been pretty much abandoned since they built it, and since it’s on the tips, I figure it’ll stay that way. Three million people down the road, yeah, this place will be bustling. But, for now? Perfect secluded training ground. I pulled a few strings with kesh to get power down here. So, I figure so long as we’ve got armor on, we could find a course and run it for time trials.”

Vetra looked around as Ryder talked, scouting out her own path over crates and under trees, up ladders and over balconies. Her visor tracked her motion, mapping a course out on the landscape. Ryder pre-empted her.

“Here’s how this is going to work: we’ll run up these stairs, across that balcony, vault over that crate, jump jet-over to that bench. Then, crawl under those benches, then sprint to that ladder…”

 

Nexus Apollo Commons, 1535

Ryder lay on the ground, panting, sweat running down his forehead to his auburn hair, dripping on the ground from there. Vetra was not too far away, sitting with her back to a tree-planter, her chest heaving similarly as she panted at the air, trying to lose heat as quickly as she could. They remained there for longer than either of them could think, time giving way to fatigue as they both tried to recover from the 12th run of the course. What had started as joking around a course as colleagues had turned into racing as friends, had turned into simply trying to finish it in the time interval they were given. Ryder had worked out like this before, but never with armor; and Vetra had rarely worked out this way before, relying mostly on her work to keep her in shape. Vetra spoke first, her voice sinking mostly into the subharmonic range as she continued to struggle to regain her breath.

“Well, Ryder, while I don’t think we’re in a position to put amusement over necessities, I’ll admit: That was good. Never knew jumpjets could be used that way.”

Ryder laughed, rolling over and pulling himself next to Vetra, the two panting next to each-other, staring blankly at the wall across from them.

“Neither did I until I tried it. Where’d you learn to slide like that?”

Vetra looked over, her mandibles spread in amusement as she tapped the armor over her breastplate.

“Learned to skid on this thing a few years back. Trust me, you don’t want to know why I ended up learning it.”

Ryder laughed, wiping new beads of sweat off the edge of his nose, wiping the water off on his thoroughly soaked undersuit.

“I’m sure I do, but I’ll ask later. Honestly, it kind of reminded me of a penguin.”

“A what?”

“A penguin. Flightless bird from earth. They slide on their stomachs on the ice. I’ll send you a few vids, you’ll either laugh or hate me, probably both.”

“We’ll see.”

Silence sat between the two, the camaraderie of shared sweat and physical misery (sweat only proverbial for one, but the misery of the training real for both) before Ryder groaned his way up, offering a hand and pulling Vetra up as he spoke.

“Well, I want a couch to lay on, and Kesh granted me access to this whole block. Want to see what kind of apartments there are here?”

They started walking, up the stairs (much to the protest of their legs) before coming into one of the residential corridors leading from the commons. As they walked past, Ryder poked his head in different rooms, the furnishing blank white and blue to match the Andromeda theme of the Nexus, waiting for the touch of an inhabitant to make it seem anything but a staged apartment. As they walked, Vetra spoke.

“Already shopping for property, Ryder?”

A small laugh as he exited another apartment.

“Not quite yet. Besides, who’s to say I’m not just going to live on the Tempest my whole life?”

A pause as Ryder evaluated another apartment.

“This one.”

Vetra walked in, the apartment small by terrestrial standards, but moderately large for a space station. Ryder had already started moving a couch, a large set of bay windows opening up to a view of the gas clouds around the Nexus, the occasional maintenance shuttle zipping by. After moving the couch – a motion Vetra found hilariously reminiscent of Liam – Ryder began taking off his chest and arm pieces, the plating hitting the ground with a heavy “thud” as air began to flow over his undersuit, his relieved “sighs” enough to indicate his contentedness.

Ryder flopped down on the couch, Vetra sitting next to him. He spoke first.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh.”

“When I was younger, my mom would take me to fly through the clouds around the citadel, talking about what they were made of and what we knew about them, how much we didn’t. But, ultimately, I think I just loved the way they played with the shuttle’s engines, the vortices in the back, the streams over the window.”

“Uh huh”

“Eventually I got old enough to understand what she was saying, but by then I already knew how beautiful the galaxy was, how much I… Vetra, are you working?”

Vetra’s head snapped quickly up to meet Ryder’s gaze as her visor hastily minimized all the email and trading tabs she had pulled up while Ryder was speaking. Her eyes widened and her mandibles flew out, mouth shut, her face like a child pulling a cookie out of the jar. A long pause ticked by before she answered.

“… No.”

“Vetra…”

Vetra’s eyes closed for half a second longer than a blink as her mandibles tightened, the Turian equivalent to pursed lips, her head angled down.

“Yes, I was. Look, Ryder, I enjoyed the workout, and the whole ‘take time for yourself’ thing. But, I’ve got a lot of work to do. I can’t give this much time to fun, not yet. My job is to keep you, this crew, at top capacity. And I do that with the skills I’ve got – negotiations, acquisitions, ‘back channels’, etc. That doesn’t involve sight-seeing.”

One of Ryder’s eyebrows slowly rose as he listened, his mouth skewing to one side, a response already forming in his head.

“I know you’ve got work. And I know you’re driven. And maybe I just can’t keep up and that’s why I’m dragging you along. But, I also know that, as much as you don’t want to admit it, you’re human too… well… turian, I guess. You’re not a robot, let’s go with that. I’ve seen the supplies of stims you’ve got, the boxes of cereal. You binge on work and then expect yourself to run at full capacity, and that’s just physically impossible. If I have to ‘order’ you to do this, or whatever it is I can do as pathfinder, fine. But, you need a break. Whether you want one or not. And, I’ll bet, if you’re really honest with yourself, you’ll agree.”

Vetra stared Ryder down, for a bit, her eyes searching his before she smiled a little, her reply laced with a bit of joviality.

“I guess we did just establish the initiative’s first outpost on Eos.”

A smile from Ryder.

“Precisely. And who was it that said ‘I’m going to enjoy this for as long as it lasts’?”

“That was more long-term, and you know it.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not going to use it. Now who’s having trouble keeping up?”

“You were, on that last lap. I totally beat you off that balcony jump.”

“Like hell you did.”

Ryder smiled, laughing as he turned back to look out across the expanse of gasses, the currents flowing in the cosmic winds like a glowing ocean in the serene blackness of space. To his left he heard the soft purring of a headset and omnitool, the occasional click of a turian finger going too far and hitting armor.

“Vetra…”

“Just finishing up a few things, don’t worry.”

Eventually the sounds stopped and the two sat and watched the galaxy outside while their legs seized up, a feeling both could identify but neither wanted to admit, nor think about. After a few minutes Ryder spoke, his tone friendly, if still slightly professional.

“Thanks for joining me. Working out is always more fun with somebody else.”

“Thanks for dragging me out of the Tempest. And making my legs feel like two lead pipes. I’m going to remember this, Ryder. Just wait until you need incendiary rounds again.”

“Do I even want to know what you could do with those?”

“I doubt it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I don't know how many of you actually read my comments, but I love explaining things here anyways. So, wanted to branch out a bit from the past two "Vetra reassures Wes" storylines and give the friendship a bit more give and take. I'll admit, I'm a bit unsure as to my characterization of Vetra - sometimes when I'm writing her she turns into Garrus or Tali. Comments on that would be appreciated. Besides that, I know this is fluffy as a down blanket, but fluff is where a lot of character building happens, in my opinion, and at the end of the day, character building/flushing-out is half of what fanfiction is. The other half is... a bit unspeakable, haha. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed it! Comments are always welcome and appreciated, I love knowing if you guys are enjoying this or not!


	4. Friends Sounds Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Target practice and a bit of under-way friendship, Vetra and Ryder keep getting to know each other in this new galaxy.

Havarl, 1100 Hours

The lush jungle was awash with sounds of life, birds – or as close as his planet came – flew overhead as a very bruised and tired pathfinder made his way through the dense underbrush. It had been two days since they had landed on that planet, and three hours since they had activated the vault. In that time, Wes had lost track of how many bites, scratches, bruises, mauls, decapitation, infections, attacks and falls he had avoided on this planet. Jaal had been annoyingly at home on the planet, jumping deftly out of the way of whatever predator had decided they had lunch written all over them, laughing slightly as he did it. Vetra had been less at home but still adept, her jump-jet rarely idle and her trusted cyclone now accompanied by a small Asari shotgun she “picked up from some raider back in milky way” (whatever that meant). But Ryder… This planet had taken a clear toll on him. His armor was grimy and muddy, showing the result of many dives into the soft ground below; he limped slightly after his ankle was banged up by “whatever the hell you call those awful dinosaur things!” (creatures Jaal informed him were actually called  “Rylkor”); and his jump jet was sparking from an unfortunate tumble in the Vault. Still, Ryder was walking through the jungle, towards the nav-point Vetra had given him.

“This better be worth it” he muttered under his breath, stepping over a particularly large rock only for his foot to get sucked into a knee-deep puddle of mud. The hardsuit kept him dry, but the sensation was still unpleasant.

A dual-toned voice crackled over the coms. “What was that pathfinder?”

“Oh, nothing, Vetra. Just saying how much I still love trudging through this swamp-hole of a planet.”

“Come-on, Ryder. Weren’t you the one who was saying you wanted adventure? Exploration? To see a whole new galaxy?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want an entire planet designed to kill me!”

Moments passed as Ryder continued to beat his way through the undergrowth, curses and exasperation abound. Eventually he came to a small clearing, the trees avoiding what looked like the remains of a remnant road. Vetra stood on one side, two weapons laid at her feet. On the other were what looked like three sim targets, their blue glow blending in with the soft bioluminescence of the foliage behind.

“Ryder, how nice of you to join me.” Turian mandibles flared in amusement as human eyebrows dived in consternation.

“Yeah, yeah. So what did you need, Vetra.”

“Well, after the past two days, I thought you could benefit a little bit from some training.”

A scoffing laugh sounded through the air over the hiss of Ryder removing his helmet, the damp, natural air flooding in to replace the sterile smell of the hardsuits filters.

“While I appreciate the thought, I do know how to handle a rifle.”

Vetra bent over, picking up one of the weapons at her feet. It was oddly geometric, glowing blue along the seams and seemed to hum as it moved through the air. There was what looked like a handle, in front of which was an oddly angled grip. The stock was split, as if it was designed for your shoulder to fit inside of it, and the barrel was split as well – the top sporting what looked like stubby vents, the bottom looking like a single piece of metal.

“No, Ryder, you have alliance training on how to handle a rifle. But, frankly, I’ve seen you use one. And while I’m all for learning by doing, there are a few things I could teach you that could keep your ass a bit more alive out here. Now, this…’ Vetra tossed it to Ryder as she spoke, before picking up her own usual weapon. ‘… is what the eggheads are calling a ‘Sweeper’. It’s an assault rifle based off remnant tech, highly experimental. But, for a few favors and a case of Angaran Ale, they let me get one.”

Wes looked down at the weapon, feeling it vibrate slightly in his hands as the weapon seemed to emit energy. His hands tingled as he pointed the rifle down-range, the metal quickly warming up in his hands. He brought his head down to where he would imagine the sights would be, and as he did so a set of holographic sights rose from the top of the weapon, a stark blue diamond with a dot in the center.

Behind him, Vetra was loading her own weapon, giving it a systems check as she spoke to Ryder.

“Now, from what I’ve seen of you so far, sink-changes are your biggest hang-up. Good news: this thing doesn’t have heat sinks. It operates off of an internal sink, like the old Kassa Breakers. You shoot, you wait, you shoot again. It shoots in three shot bursts with minimal recoil, so you’ll probably be able to put all three rounds on your target…”

“Vetra, why are you doing this?”

Wes’ question interrupted Vetra’s train of thought and she stopped, looking almost dumb-founded, at Ryder.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean why are you training me like this, getting me a special weapon? I know how to handle myself. I won’t pretend to be some super badass who can nail a fly at 40 yards with a pistol, but I can handle myself nonetheless. Do I look that incompetent? Am I that… bad?”

The pride was almost palpable in Ryder’s voice as he felt frustration which had been kept on a simmer for weeks now come to the surface, despite his best efforts. He stowed the rifle on his back and continued, pride turning to frustration, bleeding into anger. Vetra’s mandibles flared in confusion as she stowed her rifle on her back, her head tilting to one side as she listened to Ryder.

“Look, I’m not my dad, alright? I know this. It’s been made painfully obvious to me. In more ways than one. But, I do know how to handle myself, at least a bit. If I look that bad, or that incompetent, tell me. If I seem like I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t. But if there’s one thing in this job I might know something about, it’s what I learned with the alliance. And everybody loves to tell me I’m doing fine, but I know I’m not. I know I’m not who you, or Cora, or Jan, or anybody wanted. If I look bad, if I need to do something tell me. But just… don’t bullshit me.”

Silence fell between the two as Ryder’s sudden outburst floated away. Birds flew overhead and both of them could hear a Rylkor stomping around 40 yards away. Vetra spoke first, her voice softer, slightly concerned.

“I didn’t mean to hit a pressure point. Sorry…”

Ryder bowed his head, and closed his eyes as gloved hands massaged his temples. His voice was quieter, almost regretful.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. These past few days have been… stressful. And I guess I’ve just been more worried about… all that, than I thought. You didn’t deserve that.”

Again, heartbeats of silence.

“Bit of a hair trigger, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“For what it counts, I can’t tell you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Ryder looked up with one eye, an eyebrow shooting up in skeptical curiosity.

“Really. I can’t. We’re all a little lost out here, Lexi might even tell us we came out here to be lost. But none of us know what we’re doing. Out of all of us, though, you’re the one who seems to pretend like you know what you’re doing the best. So, really, I can’t tell.”

As both eyes opened, the pathfinder’s head came up, his face pulled to one side as he considered what his coworker, growing friend, told him, his eyes darting back and forth. Eventually he took a deep breath, his hands slapping the sides of his legs. Vetra continued.

“Look, Ryder. You’re right, you’re not your dad. And yes, we can all tell. But that doesn’t mean it looks like you don’t know what you’re doing. You have your own way of doing things, you are your own person. And, right now, that’s the person we’re all looking at to get us through this mess. Even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re putting on a pretty convincing act. But here’s the thing about an act – there’s always at least part of it that’s real. So, at least part of you knows what you’re doing.”

“Thanks? I think?”

“You know, that was meant to be a bit more reassuring. Words – these kinds of things, aren’t really my strong suit. I guess I’m trying to say you’re doing just fine, we all trust you, and you’re doing good stuff.”

Ryder laughed, wryly. “I certainly hope I am.”

“I know you are. Now, you want to relax by shooting some stuff?”

“You’re still pushing this training thing, aren’t you?”

“No, relaxation through shooting.”

“Vetra, when have you ever pushed anybody to relax.”

Vetra’s mandibles hugged her face as she opened her mouth, the Turian equivalent to sticking out her tongue. She reached over her back, her rifle deploying into her hand as she started talking, Ryder following her lead, the new rifle still feeling alien in his hands.

“Alright, now right now you’re shooting with your body turned to the side of your target. While this provides you with a smaller presented target, it’s not nearly as quick to change targets. So…”

Pathfinder’s Quarters, 1945 Hours

The stars shot by the ship with technological ease, the blue aura around the window bathing the cabin in similar fashion. With their nose squarely pointed for Voeld, the crew had settled down for three days of FTL travel. Lexi was sitting in her lab running tests, Cora had set up a mini biotic training station in the cargo. Liam was watching movies with Drack, and Jaal was still pouring over historical records in his adopted Quarters. And ryder stood in his cabin, enjoying a cup of steaming black hazelnut coffee as he watched the universe slide by.

Vetra’s boots sounded from the down the corridor as she knocked on the door, entering the cabin timidly.

“Ryder?”

Ryder looked behind him, smiling at the Turian before gesturing her towards him, stepping to the side so that she had room to enjoy the view as well. In her hand was a similarly steaming cup of… something, Ryder didn’t know. It had a slightly off-putting dark green color, and appeared slightly thicker than water. The smell of it was.. not unlike that of scrambled eggs, and he could see the small rivulets of steam rising from the three-fingered mug. Vetra stepped astride of Ryder, looking forwards with him as they both, fairly simultaneously, took a drink of their respective “coffee”.

“Vetra, what can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could… well, if you’ve got the time… I was thinking we might need to…”

Ryder tilted his head at the Turian as she spoke with an uncharacteristic lack of confidence, the normal semi-swagger which had developed over years of self-sufficiency suddenly gone as she stared straight ahead. Her voice wasn’t panicked, but it wasn’t the normal semi-sarcastic totally sharp play of tones he had gotten used to, either.

“Are you… bored?”

Vetra’s sudden sigh was exasperated to put it mildly as her mandibles flared out as wide as Wes had seen them. Her voice now had a strong overtone of resentment, laughable reluctance to admit the fact that she was, in fact, bored.

“Gil said that, after that encounter with the Archon, and given the mission we’re on, we had to turn off coms, go ‘silent’ – as if there’s noise in space. “

At this point Wes couldn’t help but giggle a little bit under his breath as Vetra Nyx, the workaholic of the Tempest, didn’t know what to do with herself when she couldn’t work. A light swat on the arm met his laughter.

“… _aaand_ I concluded all the work I could do for deals until we get back into contact. So, I’m done.”

“You didn’t bring a book or anything?”

A bitter sip from what looked like bitter Turian coffee.

“I did. I just would much rather talk to people. Liam and Drack are watching movies, spirits punish me if I interrupt them. Jaal is doing his whole ‘study all the milky way’ act. Lexi is, of course, running tests. Gil is… well, I don’t actually know where he is, don’t know if that’s comforting or concerning. And Kallo and Suvi are talking about the ship’s specs – interesting, but not what I’m after right now.”

“Well, glad to see I’m top of your ‘talking to’ list.”

“That’s not what I meant. We’ve got a crew of introverts. And, well, I like people.”

Wes gestured over towards the couch, Vetra’s longer legs taking her to her seat faster than him on long strides.

“Well, I happen to be a person. So, feel free to come in any time to talk.”

“Don’t you have pathfinder work, or something?”

Ryder laughed, sipping his coffee as his eyes darted subconsciously to his terminal, the new-email light flashing for the 11th day in a row, still unchecked.

“Yeah. But like you, I like people. I’ll get around to that later. There is one condition, though.”

Vetra’s head angled to her left as she sipped her drink again, cupping the mug as she finished. “What’s that?”

“You have to come with a story.”

“A story, huh?”

“Yup. If we’re gonna talk in-transit, I might as well get to know my new friend.”

Vetra’s playful laugh echoed through the cabin, a welcome respite from the monotonous drone of the HVAC system.

“You think we’re friends, do you?”

“I think at the very least I’d like to be.”

Vetra’s expression was almost… shocked. Like a flashbang had just gone off in her face. Instants later she shook her head, the expression becoming thoughtful as she examined the bulkheads above her, thinking. Eventually, after Ryder had downed half his cup of coffee, she spoke.

“A story, huh? Alright, Ryder, here you go. So, about 2 years ago – well, I guess a lot longer actually, but 2 years to us -  I was running this load of Geth tech from the citadel to the Quarians. Not explicitly illegal, not explicitly legal either. So it was just me and my partner – Soln Vorchanus, an old friend of mine – in this tiny little spaceship, probably no bigger than our cargo hold. So we’re cruising through empty space, nothing on the scanners, quiet day, so Soln and I are eating some dinner in our pilot chairs.

When all of the sudden, this ship comes out of nowhere, and I mean nowhere – didn’t have it on scanners, didn’t see it on radar, ladar, none of it. It actually looked a lot like the Tempest, strangely enough – same pointed bow, four engines, wings on the sides –much longer, though. Anyways, this dammed ship flies out of nowhere, and we get caught in their engine wash. So we start tumbling around, our galactic plane is nowhere to be found, and we’re starting to feel the force on our seats.

Now, we weren’t in planet, so gravity stayed the same, but Soln, it turns out, gets a little motion sick. I don’t know what you know about turian motion sickness, but it’s pretty different from Human motion sickness. Rather than throwing up, we pretty much just go delirious – manic, crazy, ecstatic, all of it. So, Soln stands up, and yells ‘I’ll protect you!’ and bolts into the cargo hold.

So while I’m busy stabilizing the ship and getting us back on track, I hear all this banging in the back, and next thing I know the door opens. And out steps soln, dressed head-to-toe in used geth parts, wielding a geth prime’s umbrella like a knife, yelling ‘I’ll get them! Just tell me where they are!’. Well, what else am I supposed to do but just break down laughing, and about 30 minutes later he realizes what happened and came back to his senses. We get the cargo to the Quarians, it’s all fine, whatever.

Fast forward six months to his wedding, and he’s opening all his gifts at the assembly, and up comes my box. Well he opens it, and what is in there?”

Wes had been laughing heartily through the whole story, Nyx’s natural speaking abilities bringing the scenes to life as she gestured around herself with narrative energy abound.

“Don’t tell me… was it…”

Vetra was laughing now, her coffee on a table, long forgotten.

“It was! A geth prime antenna, and in it a note that just said ‘Go get them!’. I think he still has it.”

Wes kept laughing, before calming down, sitting on the cough, red in the face from laughing, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“You know, Vetra, that’s good, that’s good. I like it. Alright, I’ve got one. So, I’m a young lieutenant on this patrol, right, first time out on my own…”

 

Pathfinder’s Quarters, 2655 Hours

“You didn’t!!!”

“Oh, you can bet your shoulder plates I did! Jumped right through the laundry chute, landed among some very confused room service.”

“Oh my god, Vetra, that’s a whole new level.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. I-lost-a-shuttle-but-found-it-while-on-a-run.”

“Fair enough, fair enough.”

The laughter from the pathfinder’s stateroom filled the corridor with brilliant mirth. In crew birthing Cora had put in her earplugs to keep the sound out, and Lexi was shaking her head at her table as she made another incision on the specimen.

Vetra and Wes panted from the laughing, both clutching their abdomens as their laughter died out, empty coffee pots and caraffe’s strewn around them, the collateral damage of a night of story-telling. Vetra was the first to notice the time as her visor blipped the change of day.

“You know, Ryder, we should probably be getting to bed. I hope you can sleep after all that coffee.”

“Trust me, I’ve been addicted for long enough, I’ll be just fine. I hope you can after all that… whatever that is. Come to think of it, what is it anyways?”

“What, this?” Vetra held up the empty container she had grabbed from her quarters of the dark green liquid. “I suppose this would be the dextro equivalent to coffee, it’s called Nisean.”

“Is it caffeinated?”

“It wakes us up, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“I was. You gonna be able to sleep?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Like you said: Addicted for long enough. This stuff has gotten me through more long nights and close calls than I’d like to admit.”

Both stood up, Ryder walking Vetra to the door. They stopped their, standing an arm’s length away as they kept talking.

“Well, Ryder, thanks for talking. This was… nice. I suppose it makes sense to colonize a new galaxy with a starship full of introverts, it’s just not the easiest for those of us who aren’t.”

Ryder chuckled, a soft smile appearing on his face as he thought about his crew.

“Yeah, I guess they are a surprisingly introverted group. But hey, any time. Exchanging stories is great, feel free to drop by whenever you want.”

The turian equivalent of a wry smile spread onto Vetra’s face as her left mandible flared, her right staying on her face, her brow plates rising on the left side.

“Well, hopefully next time I’ll have some work I can do instead of just bumming around.”

“Ouch. Man, talk about a burn.”

Vetra’s eyes shot open as she thought through what she just said, Ryder’s faux-hurt face giving way to a laugh and a smile as Vetra shook her head at him.

“You know what I mean, Ryder. I’m a natural worker, it’s where I’m most comfortable.”

“Yeah, well, new galaxy, new habits. I’ll see you relax yet.”

“Some other time. Goodnight Ryder.”

“We’ll see ya later, Vetra.”

“Oh, and Ryder?”

“Yeah?”

Ryder turned around to see Vetra smiling at him, a genuine expression of comradeship that he hadn’t seen on a Turian face but had seen from his human friends 600 years away he could recognize quickly.

“I think friends sounds good. Lord knows we need them in this galaxy.”

A quick nod sent Vetra into the night. The door of the Pathfinder’s stateroom closed as Ryder heard crew quarters open to a series of moans as the lights automatically turned on, a rather vulgar protest from Liam sounding across the hallway as Ryder shook his head and laughed. He sat back down on the couch, truth be told he wasn’t so addicted to coffee that 6 cups in 9 hours couldn’t affect him. He looked around, surveying the damage, running through the night, the stories as he did so, laughing to himself at every punchline. His thoughts ran as he cleaned up the space.

_Friends does sound good. 600 years is a long time without any._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm sorry to leave this story so long, apparently 4 weeks out from graduating college isn't quite the same as graduating, and I've still got a ways to go. So, life took over. Anyways, here's another story. Sort of a combination of fluff and filling in the gaps. To put a timeline to this one: after finding the Angaran, the Tempest goes to Havarl, activates their vault, and after that is where this story starts. Then, they head to Voeld to rescue the Moshae, which is where the second part of the story takes place. Anyways, as always, comments are much beloved, and Kudos are awesome too. Let me know what you think, but most of all, enjoy!!!


	5. A little Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the mission continues, Vetra and Ryder's friendship grows.

Pathfinder’s Quarters, 1600 Hours

The armor cleaner in the corner of the room hummed away as the Pathfinder fell into bed, still in his undersuit, the swirling winds of Voeld howling against the hull of the ship outside. Through his window he could see the windswept landscape, grey peaks and white valleys obscured by the dancing snow which perpetually fell. The sky swirled in grey fluidity as the serenely omnipresent grey clouds were pulled by the tempests below. Through the storm, a shuttle landed.

A constant cold sat under Wes’ skin, seeping into his bones. It had started from the moment he stepped foot on the planet, but had not left him since he had seen the Angaran turned into his own enemy. The long needles and anguished writhings of the poor soul sat just behind his eyelids, and he shuddered as he slipped under his blanket, pulling it to his chin as he lay on his side, watching outside. The crew was in shock after they had landed, the adrenaline of combat and action keeping them going right up until the Moshae was placed safely in the Med Bay. Jaal had stepped back, his eyes hollow and distant, his sounds practically silent as he glided out of the medical bay, a ghost in his heart and his eyes. Vetra’s mandibles had been kept tight, never wavering from her mouth, and barely a word had come from her as she retreated to crew’s quarters, and Ryder had heard the shower turn on soon after.

The HVAC systems in the ship went into overdrive as the environmental controls struggled to ward the cold of the planet away from the ship. Acute loneliness swept over Ryder as he lay, his senses keenly aware of the fact that it was him, and only him, in the cabin. He pulled out his omnitool, pulling up the messages screen. The screen flashed at him, a harsh orange, as he struggled to think of who to talk to. He and his crew were close, but in a professional sense. He hadn’t really spent time with any of them. The occasional drink in Vortex, sure. But that was more “team-bonding”, as Sara would have put it, than genuine friendship. He couldn’t really imagine discussing how he felt with Cora; Lexi would analyze it all. Jaal was dealing with it himself, and didn’t look like he wanted to talk to anybody. Kallo and Suvi hadn’t been there, they wouldn’t understand, neither would Gil. But…

Andromeda Initiative Messaging System V2.6

[Ryder] (1603) Hey

Vetra was lying in her bunk, staring at the painted metal above her, the covers pulled up to her chin. The cold from the planet still resonated through her body, her plates pulled together in an attempt to retain heat, but she doubted it was an effect of the weather. Her mind was still reeling from the Kett facility, the seconds in which an innocent Angaran became an enemy of his comrades playing out in vivid detail again and again in front of her. She shuddered every time she saw the two syringes plunge into their chest, the liquid bubbling under their skin as their eyes rolled back in their head, their body writhing as its nature was changed at a fundamental level. The horror was… unbelievable. The ship had seemed quiet when they had walked on, everything from the sonds to the colors of the spaces which defined her normal life seeming… dulled. Her omnitool pinged.

[Ryder] Hey

A small chuckle escaped from her mouth as she looked at the message, blinking in soft orange from her omnitool. She pulled her arms out from the covers, typing away a response.

[Vetra] Not the most original way to start a conversation, but I’ll bite.

[Vetra] Hey

[Ryder] With how today has gone, I don’t have much more in me.

[Vetra] You thinking about it to?

[Ryder] I don’t see how I couldn’t. I feel like I just watched a murder except, worse.

[V] It is worse. At least in a murder you’re dead.

[R] Yeah. I wonder how much they remember.

[V] For their sake, I hope none of it.

[R] Yeah. How’s Jaal, you seen him?

[V] Not after he went to his “quarters’

[R] I hope he’s okay.

[V] How could he be? He just saw one of his own people turned into a monster.

[R] Good point.

[V] You ever thought about why we’re here.

[R] No.

[V] You know, you’re very good at responding but saying nothing.

[V] And people give me crap for not being talkative…

[R] Sorry. I don’t usually text people.

[V] Well, then why are you texting now? I’m only a door and a half away.

Vetra stared at the message as soon as it sent, her eyes scanning it over and over as an uncanny feeling rose in her stomach. For some reason it felt off… suddenly one word hit her head like a ton of bricks: flirtatious. The bottom of her stomach dropped as she watched the typing indicator flash at the bottom of the screen, reading the line over and over again. _No, Vet, that’s not flirtatious. It’s just a fact… But pointing that fact out is totally flirtatious. Spirits._ After what felt like an eternity, Ryder responded.

[R] Honestly, my bed is super comfy right now. And, if I were a betting man, I’d bet yours is right now too.

[V] Fair enough. Are you not a betting man?

[R] Not normally, no. In the Navy, I never liked to act unless I knew how it was going to end up.

[V] That explains so much.

[R] About what?

[V] Nothing. I’m just sure Lexi would have a wheat week with that.

[R] I’m sure she has.

[R] “wheat week”?

[V] Yeah, isn’t that a human saying?

[R] You’re thinking of “heyday”, but I like “wheat week” too.

[V] Well, give a Turian points for trying.

[R] Oh don’t worry, you always get points in my book.

Ryder stared at the screen, a look of mild horror on his face. _Shit, you really just said that, didn’t you? That was 100% flirtatious._ The “typing” indicator mocked him as his mind raced, planning every recovery and response after something as unintentionally flirty as that. _Was it unintentional? Yes, you numb-nuts! We’re only just friends, flirting is, like, a few steps down the road! Wait, do I want it to be a few steps down the road?_ A response interrupted him.

[V] Well that’s good to hear. Not going to get cast off the ship?

[R] In this weather, definitely not. I’m not that mean.

[V] I don’t know, I heard you talking to Peebee the other day…

[R] For the record, she cleaned my coffee cup! You don’t do that.

[V] Because…?

[R] Because it’s tradition! You should have seen mine on the Frigate. Thing was a few years’ seasoned.

[V] I don’t even drink coffee and I know that’s disgusting.

[R] Yeah, well… sue me.

A few minutes passed.

[V] What are we doing?

[R] What?

[V] What are we doing?

[R] No, like, what do you mean?

[V] We’re making jokes, small talk. Like friends. We literally both just watched a man get turned into his enemy, suffer a fate worse than death, and we’re making small-talk about coffee cups?

[R] I’ll bet it’s coping mechanism.

[V] Thanks, Lexi.

[R] No, seriously. You’re right: we just saw somebody suffer a fate worse than death. After something like that, I think it’s only natural that you run to something more familiar, comfortable. Like jokes with good friends.

[V] Fair enough. I suppose you’re right. Still, it feels… wrong, somehow.

[R] Do you need to talk more about what happened?

[V] No.

[V] Maybe.

[R] If you do, it’s okay

[V] Okay, fine, yes. I do. It really… it really unnerved me. But, I don’t think I can say why, yet.

[R] Fair enough. I’m sorry to admit, I’m falling asleep. Talk to you… whenever we both wake up?

[V] ~~I’d like that.~~ Sure, sounds good.

Nexus Observation Deck 023, 2200 Hours

The door behind Vetra opened with a mechanical hiss, the Ryder’s figure reflecting in the window. The large room was empty save for Vetra standing in-front of the huge bay windows, looking out through one of the massive arms at the cosmic clouds which swirled around the space-station. Benches sat in rows behind her, empty, dusty, yearning for a time years away when the station would throng with the heartbeat of life a galaxy out of place but still home. Signs lay dormant above concession stands, the great carnival of the cosmos still reserved for the privileged few, awake to see the foothold made. Ryder’s steps echoed through the room as he walked towards Vetra, standing next to her as she stared outwards, visor turned off, her eyes distant in a uniquely Turian way.

“Hey Vetra, what are you up to?”

Vetra started, her head shaking slightly as Ryder’s voice woke her from some deep reverie. She stuttered before she spoke, surprised vowels escaping her mouth before discernible words.

“What?”

Ryder looked up at her, seeing her eyes visorless for the first time to his memory, her brow plates receding from their low place of deep thinking. His voice was professional, though nonetheless sounding disappointed.

“If you wanted to be alone, that’s fine. I’ll go.”

“No, you’re fine!”

The response was quick, not frantic nor desperate, but fast nonetheless. Ryder, who had turned to leave, turned back, crossing his arms over his chest in a mirror pose of Vetra as the two of them looked out of the obersvation window together. Silence reigned, but it was different in texture than any previous. This time, it wasn’t bloated by the awkwardness of social uncertainty, or of wards fighting to get out. Instead, the majesty of the view, the alienness of the very winds which caressed the stars, filled the room and their silence. Vetra was the first to talk.

“How’s the rest of the crew?”

“Oh, their normal selves. Drack, Gil, Peebee, and Liam are all at Vortex. Lexi is knocking elbows with some of her Doctor Friends. Suvi is down in the labs, Cora’s hanging with a few Asari friends, Kallo is… wherever kallo is, and Jaal is connecting with the Angaran embassy on the Nexus.”

“Good, good.”

“I’ll be honest, I was surprised to find you here. Would have expected you to be working or something.”

“Oh, don’t worry, a contact of mine left about five minutes ago. I just stayed to enjoy the view.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Nope, first rule of smuggling: tell your client what they got, but never where they got it from.”

“So I’m a client now, huh?”

“In a sense, yeah.”

“I suppose I can live with that.”

The clouds outside flowed in and out, around and over each other in a cosmic dance of fourescent beauty. The station rotated around and Ryder could see the edge of the cloud, the shimmering blue light giving way to a starkly dark night sky, pinpricks of alien stars illuminating an alien night around them, the room becoming dark, save for the pilot lights on their omnitools and Vetra’s armor. Vetra was the first one to talk.

“What are we doing out here, Ryder?”

“huh?”

Ryder looked up with a confused expression, the abruptness of the question equally piquing his interest and confusing him as the darkness of the sky outside hid his expression.

“What are we doing? Making a new life in a new galaxy? Getting involved in a war which isn’t ours? What are we doing?”

“I’ll admit, Vetra, I can’t tell if you’re looking for me to reassure you, or my opinion. And I don’t want to give you one while you’re asking for the other.”

Vetra laughed, looking down at Ryder who had a look of grim uncertainty on his face, which made her laugh even more. She leaned forwards to rest her elbows on the safety rail, shaking her head as she stared into the “sky” around them, the abyss infinitely close through the clear window in the empty room.

“I’ve never been asked that, Ryder. It’s a bit blunt, don’t you think?”

“I’d rather blunt than wrong.”

“I like that. I guess I’m looking for both.”

“Both?”

“Yeah. I want your opinion, and I want it to match mine.”

Now it was Ryder’s turn to laugh as he leaned against the railing.

“Fair enough.”

He paused to think, the stars turning in-front of him as he watched them. The station’s rotation was smooth, leisurely, adding motion to the profundity of the stars which they looked at. Light travels the same in Andromeda and the Milky Way, and yet to both there was an alien nature to everything that they saw, a knowledge that their species’ home worlds were but an unobservable dot in the middle of a new blackness.

“I think… I think we’re building our homes here. I think we said that we came to explore, but at the end of the day what we came to do was to make a home. And that’s exactly what we’re doing. I think we are discovering new planets, new technology, new worlds and new civilizations, and that’s what we thought we would be doing. But at the same time, I think we’re making a place in a new galaxy: friends where we need to, enemies where we must. I think… I think we’re adapting.”

“Good.”

“So, I take it that was up to spec?”

Vetra laughed, the dual-toned sound filling up the room with echoes of itself.

“Yes, that was pretty good. I agree.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you’re still-on board with my intentions. Because that’s going to drive a lot of what we’re doing from here on out.”

“You talking about doing things besides chasing down The Archon?”

“That too. But also just… exploring. We’ve got the Moshae, we’re finding the Vaults. But we didn’t come here to defeat the Kett. We came here to make a home. And if that means we recruit the other Krogran, or find the other pathfinders before we activate all the vaults – I’m fine with that.”

“I agree, Ryder. Besides, I’m always on your team”

“Good to hear, thanks Vetra.”

The two watched as the gas cloud rotated back into view, the pale light illuminating the empty room, throwing shadows on the floor as it came over the top of the window. Vetra stepped back, sitting down and crossing her legs, Ryder doing the same, the smell of old, sterile dust rising as the two did so, watching the galaxy spin outside their own, private window. A Turian voice filled the space.

“You know, pretty soon we’re going to have to deal with other people in here.”

“What, once the rest of the station is woken up?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s certainly going to be busy. What do you think you’re going to do? After all this? Go down for a colony?”

Vetra stared out the window, her mandibles flapping idly through the air as she thought, her subharmonics making a soft sound, so deep that Ryder could barely discern it, and even as he did he felt it more in his chest than heard it in his ears. After a few minutes, she answered.

“You know, I don’t think so.”

“No?”

“No. A colony would be nice, and maybe someday I’ll settle down. But I like it too much out here. Working among the stars, pushing the boundaries of a new galaxy.”

Ryder laughed slightly, crossing his legs and crossing his hands casually while sitting, matching Vetra’s outward gaze.

“I’ll be the work would be better on the Nexus, though. A full city: lot’s of people are going to need lots of things.”

Vetra laughed, dryly, almost sadly. Ryder looked to her, the tone of her melancholic laugh causing him concern.

“You’re right. No shortage of customers. The more I think about it, the more I came to get away from that. I smuggled because it paid the bills, it kept my sister and I alive. But running with you, being on The Tempest, the more I realize that’s what I want to do: I want to explore. I want to see this new galaxy first-hand.”

“Well, I know I’d love to have you along for the ride. Even after we get all the vaults activated.”

Vetra’s heart skipped a step as she heard Ryder’s statement and her breath caught slightly. Her eyes darted slightly around the view outside, and her mind ran wild inside her head as she processed what he said, everything it meant, everything it could have meant. _Why does that excite me so much, to hear him say that? We’re just friends, and recent ones at that! Maybe that’s it, I’ve never really had friends, and now I’m making them here._ Little did she know Ryder was going through a similar process, but much more confused - _was that flirting? Was I flirting with her? God, this is just like when I said “I won’t run out on you”, isn’t it? Ryder, you should just… stop putting words out of your mouth. Apparently your foot fits better there._ Vetra stumbled her way through the response, her voice unsure and her cadence showing it.

“Well… that’s… good to hear. Ryder. Thank-you. I’d… love to stay along for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Good to hear. Good to hear.”

Silence reigned, this time impregnated with an unsure awkwardness. Vetra spoke first.

“You said everybody else was down at the bar?”

“A fair number of them, yeah.”

Vetra stood up, her visor flickering on as she extended a hand to Ryder.

“Well, come-on then, let’s go!”

Ryder laughed, looking at the hand then Vetra with a mockingly raised eyebrow.

“Don’t you have work, or something?”

“Work can wait for when I’m on the Tempest. Besides, you only get one new galaxy per lifetime. Let’s go have a little fun.”

Ryder grasped Vetra’s wrist and she grasped his, the two pulling towards each other as Ryder stood up, quickly walking out of the space.

Tempest Crew Quarters, 0215 Hours

The yells as the two walked up from the storage bay couldn’t have been missed by anybody as far as Aya. Wes’ voice was arguably the dominant one, yelling off-tune through laughs.

“Oh my god, that was… that was so great, we gotta make sure to do that more often.”

Vetra’s voice wasn’t much better, and they were both stumbling down the hallway as they supported each other’s weight.

“We… we definitely should. I need to… I need to stop working so hard.”

“No no, it’s good. Working is good, it keeps us… with the stuff… and stuff.”

“Wes, you’re… you’re drunk.”

“You are too, Ms. Nyx.”

“Yeah, and that’s why I’m going to bed.”

The two let-go, propping themselves up by holding onto the bulkheads as Vetra opened the door with her omni-tool, revealing a too-empty crew berthing.

“Swhere’s all the other… people?”

“I think they’re still there, Vet.”

“We are… we are a couple… a few lightweights, aren’t we.”

“Yeah… it just means we’re… focused. Or something.”

Vetra stumbled a few paces through the door before she turned back, speaking at Wes with the most earnestness her voice could muster under the influence.

“Wes… you were… you were so right.”

“Abo…about what?”

“You do need fr… bud… friends out here. It’s, they’re, you’re… friends are what make it all worth it. Thanks for being my firnd.”

“Thanks for being… for doing mine, Vetra. You’re… you’re the best. I… I lo… li…”

“You what?”

“Ya know… I don’t know what! Isn’t that just, craaaazy? Goodnight” Wes wavered, clutching onto the bulkhead as his face was spread with a drunken manic smile. Vetra nodded at Wes as they both stumbled into bed, Vetra hitting her head on the top of the bunk before falling asleep.

 

Tempest, 0730 Hours

Andromeda Initiative Messaging System V2.6

[V] Ow.

[R] Your head too?

[V] My everything. How did last night get so crazy?

[R] I don’t think I remember anything after Drack pulled out a flask of Ryncol. You?

[V] Turians don’t black-out. Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything crazy.

[R] Who’s brilliant idea was it to schedule Quarters at 0800?

[V] Yours.

[R] Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, another chapter! i'm liking this pace of roughly a chapter a week! this one's a bit of a long one, but I think I like it. In my fictional stories, as in my life, I can never tell when to introduce some romance. But, I figure around two in-game flirts seems appropriate. Besides, it's gotta come in some time, otherwise we never get to full levels of ship! As always, comments and kudos are great (oh, and questions! Usually there's literally notebook pages of headcanon behind my stories, so I love answering questions!). But most of all, enjoy!


	6. Turning A Little Faster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In their quest to find the Archon, Ryder and his crew pull into Kadara port. Vetra brings Ryder to meet one of her friends, and the two share an alien sky.

Kadara Port, 1900 Hours

Ryder sat on the edge of the port, watching the majestic landscape that unfolded in front of him. The sunset glowed with honey-pink light that bathed the alien landscape in warm rays. Behind him, the techno thump of the club’s music could be felt more than heard, far enough away to not interrupt the serenity of the scene in front of him. Soft footsteps sounded behind him, though he barely noticed.

“Enjoying the view?”

Vetra stood behind him, looking out from the edges of the dock, her visor almost unnoticeable in the light of the evening.

“Something like that, yeah.”

Vetra sat down next to rider, her feet dangling off the edge with him, kicking mildly in the freedom they enjoyed.

“You been in to explore the port yet?”

“A little bit. Went in to meet our Angaran contact, met with Sloane Kelly – she’s a piece of work. Still have to go interrogate the Angaran.”

“No, I mean actually explore the port.”

Ryder looked at Vetra quizzically, his left eyebrow shooting up as he tilted his head slightly to the left. Vetra’s brow plates lifted and her mandibles flared out as she spoke.

“You know, like where the real people live? Where you are right now, this is to Kadara what the docks are to the citadel – a collection of travelers and smugglers, here for the night and nothing more.”

“So, have you been farther in, then?”

Vetra stood up excitedly, extending a hand to Ryder as she did so. He followed suit, taking her hand to help lift him to standing next to the precipice of the landing platform.

“Yes, I have been farther in. I lived here for a few weeks, actually. Let’s go exploring. I’m hungry, you want dinner?”

The growl in Ryder’s stomach answered for him, and Vetra was greeted primarily with a sheepish grin from the Pathfinder.

The two started walking, into the port first, passing all of the shops and din which Ryder was familiar with until they came to what had initially struck Ryder as a wall of junk. A closer inspection, though, with the help of Vetra activating the hidden console, revealed that it was actually just a creatively disguised door, blending in perfectly with the grab-bag assortment of equipment which made up the majority of the walls and corridors in the port.

Ryder looked around with childlike wonder as Vetra led him down a corridor, wide enough for three or four people to walk abreast in, her dual-toned voice explaining as they walked.

“See, the people who settled Kadara – the outcasts – for the mostpart aren’t all bad. Yeah, there’s a vocal minority whose entire platform is ‘screw the nexus’, but that’s not really representative. The majority of people here just wanted a life with a little bit more… control, than Tan allows for on the Nexus. Once they found Kadara and started to settle in, the lack of a clear police force, government, or any regulations made this an immediate pirate and smuggler’s haven. They were happy for the trade, we do keep the money flowing here, but most people here don’t want anything to do with it. So they separated Kadara Proper from the port, hid the entrance. They get to live a life largely free of the vagrancy in Andromeda, the pirate’s still get a place to booze and laugh and trade, and everybody makes money. An elegant solution, really, if you think about it.”

After a long distance the tunnel opened up and Ryder was greeted by a small square in which hundreds of people were walking about. The buildings bordering the square had the same chanty-town feel of what he had seen in the port, but the smell of vomit and sewage had been replaced just by general life – the faint tingling smell of power converters, the dust kicked up from a Turian walking by, the sweet aroma of the food stand to his left. The square itself was modestly sized, approximately 50 yards at its widest point, and at even intervals five roads split off into what he could see was a rather thriving city. To his best guess they were on the backside of the mountain that Kadara was on, this square being the tallest point of the entire establishment, but the tunnel had effectively disoriented him with an occasional and random turn (a feature he was certain was rather intentional).

Vetra started walking confidently down one of the roads and Ryder followed, his mouth still agape as he took in the sights and sounds around him. The outcasts had clever handcarts that they used, the cargo area glowing blue with Mass Effect Fields as they hauled clearly heavy wares with ease up and down the narrow and inclined roads – it was clear this was a pedestrian’s town. Species of every kind – Turian, Asari, Humans, Angarans, Salarians, even a few Krogan – stood around, clothed in dull greens and blues, bartering over the cost of this upgrade or that fruit. Only a handful of buildings looked to be more than two stories high, though there were some that were large enough to cover an entire block. While not dirty, nothing in the city seemed particularly sturdy, almost as if all of it had been built as a placeholder for a more permanent building which had yet to come. Looking forwards to see Vetra a few yards ahead, Ryder trotted forwards, speaking while he ran.

“So, do they have, like, a government here? Police? Civil servants?”

Vetra laughed, smiling at Ryder as the two dodged around a human and a Turian who clearly disagreed on the true value of a pistol.

“Of sorts. There’s no formalized government, as you’re thinking. Sloane’s word is still law back here. Any sort of government or civil tasks happen at her word. Say what you will about her, though, she does a pretty good job. Most tasks are taken care of fairly quickly, and the majority of her ‘shoot first ask later’ goons stay on the port side. In here.”

Vetra dodged to the right, Ryder following suit, into a small diner with a low ceiling. An L-shaped counter hugged the back corner with a door to the kitchen behind it, and on the counter behind glass sat plates of Turian and human food. 8 tables filled the rest of the space, chairs surrounding them. Vetra walked up to the counter and quickly a short Turian left the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag as he did so. Her face was scarred in places and his colony markings were all but weathered away. A frown hugged her mandibles to her face, but as soon as she looked up to see Vetra, her eyes lit up and her voice erupted with dual-toned joy.

“Vetra!!!” Vetra was practically yanked over the counter into a crushing hug. “Oh how good it is to see you! It’s been a few months, no? Please, please, sit sit!”

The turian gestured to the tables filling the space and Vetra and Ryder turned around to find a table of four, taking seats opposite each-other with the new turian seated to Vetra’s right. She continued.

“Vetra, you’ve got to tell me what you’ve been up to? How is life on the Nexus? We’ve heard rumors of a pathfinder, is this true? Is he real? Or is it a she?!”

Vetra was about to open her mouth when the Turian’s attention turned to Ryder, her eyes blatantly looking him over from top to bottom, her mandibles flaring slightly as she did so. The subharmonics of her voice getting deeper as she spoke.

“And who’s your new friend?” She turned to Vetra, her voice lowering in volume “you didn’t tell me you kept such cute friends! I like him!” Ryder’s face reddened as the new turian spoke and Vetra gave him a look which was an even mix of exasperation and amusement. The turian turned back to Ryder. “I’m sorry, where are my manners. 600 years out of the hierarchy and look what I’ve become! I’m Trivenia Quo, but most of my friends just call me Tri. I run the finest Levo-Dextro diner in Kadara.”

Ryder’s face made how taken aback he was by the bombardment of friendliness quite obvious and, stifling a laugh, Vetra took over the introductions.

“It’s good to see you again, Tri. I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Wes Ryder, _Pathfinder_.”

Her clear emphasis on the last word was not lost on Trivenia, and she gave Ryder another impressed once-over, glancing at Vetra who nodded at her as if confirming that her information was accurate.

“Well, nice to meet you, _pathfinder_. Here, let me get you something to eat.”

Trivenia stood up, hustling behind the counter as she took out two plates, loading them both up with heaps of oddly green and pink food, which Ryder recognized from neither Levo nor Dextro diets. Vetra leaned across the table to speak to Ryder in confidence.

“Trivenia is one of my most reliable contacts here in Kadara. She worked with Blackwatch – a Top Secret Turian Spec Ops team – before coming to Andromeda. As you’ve seen, she’s very friendly to those she likes. Get on her badside, though… it’s unlikely any of your loved ones will see you again.”

Trivenia returned from behind the counter, placing steaming plates of… something, in front of both Ryder and Vetra, though neither were terribly certain whether it was food or not.

“Now, forewarning you two, these are some of my newer recipes – I went out to collect some plants outside of town and made these. The turian dishes taste pretty good, and my human friends say the same about your food, pathfinder. So, eat up!”

Kadara Proper, 2130 Hours

The plates were left empty besides Ryder and Vetra, replaced instead by warm mugs of some alcoholic drink neither knew the origin of, and doubted they wanted to know. The conversation was still as engaging as ever, Vetra lauding Trivenia with stories of their adventures thus far in Heleus, of their contact with the Angarans and battles with the Kett. Ryder would chime in, when he could, but quickly found that his story telling skills were a little lacking compared to the adventuring smuggler, his sotires usually petering off into forced laughs and rushed changes of subject. Vetra was finishing a story.

“… and then, just to top it off, Wes said something really silly like ‘Eat this, you Kett bastard’, just something way over the top, and BAM, sent one round right between this bastard’s eyes. It was incredible.”

Trivenia laughed, looking Ryder over again, before standing up, gesturing to her guests to stay seated, saying simply “one moment” before practically running behind the counter. Vetra and Ryder were left alone, staring at each other. Ryder spoke first.

“I like your friend, she’s fun.”

“She is, isn’t she? Probably one of my favorite people in this town. Actually, definitely my favorite.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Not anymore. When we were still waiting for a pathfinder I lived here for a few weeks, just for the fun of it, wanted to see what outcast life was like. Not quite my style.”

“No?”

“No. As it turns out, I like to have actual air filtering and running water all the time, imagine that.”

“Yeah, imagine that..”

Ryder’s voice drifted away as he could sense the small conversation dying, his heart sinking as he tried to think of something to say. _Dammit, Wes, come on! Think of something! She’s so much fun to talk to, to listen to, there’s gotta be some way to engage her in another topic. Maybe ask about her work here? No, she’s made it clear she’s trying to move away from all that. Her gun? Please, let’s not talk about guns for a while… dammit!_

Before Wes could think of something to say, Vetra started talking.

“You know, Wes, this place reminds me of Omega a lot. My sister and I lived there for a few years. Low rent, always work, it was pretty good, all things considered. Most people think Omega is just this town of vagrants – people who want to live outside the rules, ‘shove it to the man’ as some humans say. But, for the most part, it’s just people with nowhere to go. This place is sort of the same way. Most aren’t living here because they hated the nexus, most are here because they didn’t think they had a voice. They were outcasts long before they were cast out. The only difference is, they might still have a chance at somewhere to go here.”

“What do you mean”

Vetra took a sip from her glass, staring out the entryway of the diner into the now-quiet  street, here eyes looking through the shroud of night out the building. After a few moments, she spoke.

“In the milky way, everything already had a place. The galaxy already had a rhythm. You went where you were needed, you knew what that meant. But out here… it’s a fresh start. We’ve just barely established two outposts in Andromeda, and there are tons left to set-up. After we get those up and running, once we’ve got a full government between the colonies that isn’t just The Nexus, these people might be able to get a home there. The biggest difference between here and Omega, is hope.”

Ryder laughed, taking a long swig from his drink before slamming it down on the table, a little more forcefully than was soberly necessary.

“Next you’re going to tell me I am that hope.”

“Well… yeah.”

Before Vetra could keep talking, Trivenia came back from behind the kitchen carrying a small, octagonal tube in here hand. Her steps made it clear that it was heavy, and by her smile Ryder could tell that it was special to her. She set it on the table before talking.

“Now, Pathfinder…”

“Please, call me Wes.”

“Alright, _Wes_.” A small Turian goading smirk. “This piece is really special to me. Without going into any details, she’s seen me through a lot, put down a lot of bad people. I’ve only just met you, but if Vetra likes you (and trust me, she does), then that’s enough for me. I’m getting to be a little too old to lug something like this around, but that one on your back, I’ll gladly take. So, I propose a trade. This…” she pressed a button on the side of the tube and it extended into a sniper rifle. “for that.”

Vetra gasped softly as she looked at the rifle on the table, the block printed words on the front reading “BLACK WIDOW MK.III”. Ryder stared in awe at a weapon he had only ever heard about, the geometric design beautiful in its own way, a bringer of death in the right hands. Slowly, he reached out to touch it, his hand softly brushing against the cold frame of the weapon.

“Tri… are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Like I said, I’m getting too old. Not only that, can’t have our pathfinder bringing out some stupid peashooter in the field, now can we? Lord only knows where the Turian pathfinder is, and there’s not even a peep about the Asari or Salarian one. Right now, you’re our only hope. And if that armor and your stories have anything to say, you’ve become quite the soldier. A long way from an Alliance Naval Officer – I’ve seen you all shoot, I know you’re horrid, no shame in it. This weapon deserves to do good work, to shoot the right bad guys and protect the good ones. It’s certainly not going to do that here.”

Dumbfounded, Ryder looked to Vetra who stared at him, before jerking her head in a clear “Well, go on!” gesture. Ryder reached behind him, removing his Initiative rifle from his back and handing it softly to Triviana, who smiled while looking the weapon over, stowing it expertly on the mounting plates of her soft armor. Ryder reached forwards, picking up the heavy weapon and collapsing it down into it’s smaller form, stowing it on his back, adjusting his shoulders as he got used to the new weight. The room was silent.

Triviana stood up quickly, rubbing her hands together in a very human motion before picking the plates up.

“Well, you two, it’s time for an old woman to go to bed, so I’ve got to kick you out. Visit again some time?”

Vetra and Ryder stood up to leave, turning around to answer in unison “Of course, Tri.”

Kadara Port, 2430 Hours

The moon shone eerily over Kadara, bathing the Tempest in a beautiful pale light, the reflective sections of the ship throwing a dance of colored light over the surrounding buildings. The port was only a slight bit quieter at night, the constant din from the music still omnipresent in the back of everyone’s mind, like a song which all were struggling to remember but never could.

Ryder sat, again with his legs dangling off the edge of the platform. He knew, in the back of his mind, that there was a severed head of a Kett not 30 feet away from him, but that was pushed out by the beauty of the landscape before him. _Man, how much that would have freaked me out not 3 months ago…_

In his hands was his new rifle, freshly polished and cleaned. A man of selectively fastidious nature (his weapons and armor were perpetually spotless, the same could not be said for his stateroom), cleaning the weapon had been the first thing he had done upon return to the Tempest, the smell of gun oil and mass effect fields becoming strangely soothing to him since his time in Heleus. Afterwards, the sound of a flying creature – he knew not which – had called him outside, and the view had kept him there.

His mind was empty as he looked at the mountains before him, but he found that the subconscious wandering of an amazed mind was enough to solve many of his problems – or at least bring him conclusions he had never reached before. He thought about the crew, how they had come together. How Lexi had come into her role as team doctor quite naturally – no matter how much she complained about the number of injuries the crew was able to sustain. How Suvi was finding divine beauty in their new galaxy, a faith in final resolution that few others on his crew or the Nexus could boast. How Liam was learning just what being explorers meant, coming to terms with his own displacement as well as the slow acceptance of others; his continual outreached hand a constant force for friendship within the cluster.

And then, there was Vetra.

Before Ryder’s mind could turn properly to Vetra, or rather tell him properly what he thought of her, the familiar soft stomp of an armoured Turian approached from behind, the familiar two-toned voice calling out.

“Out here again?”

“Yeah, I guess this place is just too beautiful to pass up.”

“You know, Ryder, you’re gonna have to sleep sometime.”

“After I finish enjoying this.”

“Fair enough.”

Vetra sidled down beside Ryder, not asking for an invitation. The silence between them was comfortable, of a silence between friends, but nevertheless pregnant with conversations that could be, though neither party felt capable of starting them. The closest thing Andromeda seemed to have to a bird flew overhead. Ryder spoke first.

“This planet is a hell of a place. Pirates, beautiful mountains…”

“Trade deals with no regulations…”

“That too.”

A short pause.

“This used to be my favorite place to come. I’d fly down here on a ‘borrowed’ shuttle, carrying enough to make a profit. Find an inn for a few nights, enjoy the scene. There’s something very… freeing, about being here. In both good and bad ways.”

“What stopped you?”

“All… this.” Vetra gestured at the Tempest behind them.

“I’m sure you’ll find time after all… this. Suvi estimates we’ll be out here no more than two more months before the Nexus reaches full viability… whatever that means.”

“By then, maybe we won’t need all this. If we’ve got a foothold in Heleus, an actual government and structure, who’s to say Kadara port needs to stay?”

“I’m sure they will. You said it yourself: people have built a life here. That’s not something they’re going to want to just uproot and move randomly.”

“I guess you’re right. I just love the idea of a new Heleus government.”

“Why, not fond of the old one?”

“No, I have no hard feelings against the hierarchy, or even the council. I just… In the Milky Way, everybody was classified by their species first: Turian, Human, Asari; and then after that people cared what you did or who you were. Maybe out here, with a bunch of mixed worlds, we can change that. Make a galaxy that’s truly communal.”

“You think it’ll work.”

“I hope so.”

Another pause. Vetra started again.

“When I was younger, working construction jobs for my sister, she and I found our way into some Salarian dominant space. They were all very nice, but the more I asked the more I got turned down. It was… heart breaking. Sid had to beg on the streets just to get food for her, and I practically starved. It took a few months before an old Salarian told me that Salarians don’t hire Turians. When I asked why, he just looked at me like I was crazy and walked away. That’s… that’s always stuck with me. It wasn’t big – I eventually found a job and Sid and I got off that rock – but the memory of his confusion, how shocked he was that I would question it? That’s stuck for a while. I don’t want the next generation to grow up with that.”

Ryder paused, looking at Vetra to see that her visor had turned off, a clear echo of the pain from the past on her face.

“I never knew that. That sounds… awful.”

“I haven’t told anybody else, except you.”

“Well… thank-you.”

“For what, sharing an old sob story that explains an impractical aspiration?”

“For trusting me enough to share that.”

“Oh.” Vetra paused, looking at Ryder with momentary confusion and shock. “Well… yeah. Of course.”

“For the record, I like your idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. As the galaxy’s newcomers, Humans are constantly getting told by other council species to ‘wait our turn’ before we get serious say in galactic matters. And I can understand that we’re a little new and inexperienced. But, to me, it’s always seemed like that would give us a good perspective on things, a new take, help shake off some cob-webs, you know? I’d love to make a calaxy for all species, run by all species.”

“Yeah… wouldn’t that be something.”

Vetra took two breaths before she looked at Ryder, a small grin on her face, her tone quickly shifting from wistful to teasing.

“So, _pathinder…”_

“Oh man, here it comes”

Vetra’s laugh trickled through her sentence.

“Was that ‘Singularity Sailors’ I heard playing in your room last night?”

Though the moonlight prevented Vetra from seeing, Ryder’s face turned brilliant red at the question.

“It might have been, why?”

“You’re a Singular? Really?”

Immediately, Ryder took up the rallying call of his show and Vetra laughed as he defended it with passion and excitement.

“Look, the first series’ writing really stands up, despite it’s lack of special effects technology. And the second series? There isn’t really a better science fiction show on the vids to date! Its writing, its cast, its focus on character development and plotline over flashy special effects… it is the model that almost all sci fi vids are based off of now! Everybody from Captain Richard to Counselor Troiven, they all stand up as back ground characters. The third series, I’ll give you, is a little stale. But the fourth had some really compelling ideas and subplots, and the fifth did a fantastic job of exploring the prequel days before the original show! At the time, it was visionary, and now it is foundational! So, yes, I am a ‘Singular’, and yes, I do enjoy it!”

Vetra’s laughing had reached hysterical levels as Ryder finished, her lungs burning as she struggled to take a breath. Through the laughter she spoke.

“Wes, those vids were old when we left, not to mention now!”

Ryder’s face was still slightly red from consternation.

“Okay, fine, I got a little bored when I was a teenager, thought I’d watch it since everybody kept on spoofing it and making fun of it. Is there a point to all this?”

Vetra was still laughing, though it was dying down.

“Yes, actually. What if I told you I know a guy who has an unopened box-set of Singularity Sailors’ vid disks?”

Ryder’s head turned, and had he been a dog his ears would have picked up, instantly.

“What do you want me to do?”

“What are you willing to do?”

“Literally, anything.”

Vetra laughed, her tone now jokingly predatory.

“Well, then, I think I might get them for you, if you promise me I can hold onto this favor.”

“Vetra Nyx, I’ll do literally anything for you.”

“Promises, promises!”

As Vetra said it her head came out of the pool of laughter that it had been swimming in, her eyes noticing the mere centimeters that sat between hers and the Pathfinder’s face. Her tone was intentionally flirty, a tactic she had used with most of her closer clients. But with Ryder… with him so close… she questioned whether it mightn’t be actually serious. Ryder apparently noticed too because he quickly moved back to his position, nervously clearing his throat as he blushed furiously under his cheeks.

Silence again reigned between them.

Ryder spoke first.

“You know, Vetra, I was doing some thinking today.”

“That’s never good.”

“No, I promise you, this isn’t another ‘Let’s clean the entire tempest!’ idea. Actually, I was thinking about this crew.”

“And?”

“And how we’re getting along. And, I gotta say, I think you’re my closest friend out here.”

Vetra stopped to think about Ryder’s statement before speaking again.

“Where is this coming from, Wes?”

“I don’t know. I just… thought I needed to tell you.”

Vetra waited, staring at Wes as she counted down until the further answer she knew was coming arrived.

“Well, actually…”

_Right on time_

“I guess being out here, in this port, reminded me just how… alone, I am out here. I came with a family of three, myself, my sister, my dad. But Dad’s dead and Sara’s setting the record for waking up from cryo. We’ve got the crew, but most of them just work for me, if that makes sense. We don’t interact a whole lot, we don’t talk outside of work. But you, us? We hangout. We go get dinner. We talk about unified governments and whatnot. The worst feeling in the world was when I realized that it had been months since I last told my dad I loved him when he died. Since then, I’ve been trying to make a point to tell people what they really mean to me. So, thanks. For being my friend.”

Vetra smiled in her Turian way as she saw Ryder trying to make his statements heartfelt, the endearing nerdiness of his behavior and speech getting the message across where his words couldn’t. In due time, she responded.

“The feeling is mutual, Wes.”

Wes leaned back, looking up at the alien sky filled with alien stars, content at getting his message across. A part of him wanted to say more, wanted to tell Vetra more than just things about friendship, but there was such a mass of intentional and unintentional distractions pushing against it that he was able to primarily contentedly look up. Vetra followed suit, enjoying the world without the bluish purple tint of her visor in the way. The two threw their hands back, supporting their weight as they looked upwards. Vetra’s right tertiary finger found Ryder’s pinky, quite by mistake (she told herself), the contact electrifying for the both of them. Suddenly that deeper part of Ryder’s mind which he had kept quiet so ardently flared up, yelling at him all the wonderful traits of his best friend in Heleus, shouting to him to move further, see where this connection could go. Vetra’s mind had a similar voice, though she had been largely unaware of it until now, traditional Turian stoicism silencing it more effectively  than Ryder’s simple distractions. However, the two stayed where they were, their hands touching, their minds reeling at 100 kilometers a second, and the world seemed to turn just a little bit faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while since I posted. I actually graduated University last Friday!!! So, it's been a little hectic leading up to that. Anyways, this one is a lot of fluff with some movement in the end. I'm justifying to myself that part of the slow build is giving the characters time to come together on their own, but I'm so unfamiliar with this timescale in writing that I don't know whether I'm moving too fast or too slow. Feedback would be wonderful, and I hope you guys enjoy!!!
> 
> PS - If you couldn't tell, "Singularity Sailor" is this universe's Star Trek, and bears an unsurprising number of similarities.


	7. Stasis Field

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archon found, an Ark attached. Ryder and Vetra head in to rescue the Salarians, and celebrate afterwards.

Archon’s Ship, 1849

It was a phrase Vetra had heard Ryder use before, one of the ones which apparently few other humans used with the same regularity as him, but which he insisted on regardless, one of his many idiosyncrasies: the stomach dropping. It was supposedly a feeling of the ground falling out beneath you, as though the world dropped away from you, one Vetra had never known. Until now.

The voice from Sam had come just moments before the air around them had erupted with a strange orange light, her body lifted and her stomach dropping from inside of her. Every part of her body became weightless, as though she were made of air; but her armor continued to pull her down, the weight useless against whatever force held her aloft. The orange aura around intensified as her hands were shackled together, the energy visible but nonapparent, as though gravity itself were shackling her wrists together. A soft grunt of surprise escaped her lips, just as it did Jaal’s, though both were overshadowed by the stunted yell from Ryder as he too was held aloft in the trap.

Immediately she had begun struggling against the restraints, pulling and pushing at her wrists in some desperate hope that freeing her hands would in any way help her to release the rest of the body from the invisible grasp. Her arms ached with effort after only a few seconds, whatever strength she had matched in gentle force by the growing cuffs around her wrists, her body still hanging but decameters above the ground. Still, the desperate struggle continued.

Until he had walked in.

The footsteps were from the darkness initially, heavy and commanding, not born of stealth nor any desire nor need to conceal them from anybody – the tread of one who is obeyed. From the heavy steps was borne the bone and grey face of The Archon, alien eyes staring without compassion from sunken sockets as he approached the group, speaking as he went.

Vetra had watched as the Archon belittled the sector, taunting Ryder and both his and his father’s accomplishments. She had felt the disdain in his voice as he reviled the species of this sector and spoke to Ryder as a scientist to a lab rat. Her blood was simmering, kept under control only by the fear of what wrath could await them all deeper in the ship once these energy restraints were replaced by fabric. It was brought to a boil as she watched his hand wrench at Ryder’s neck, turning it as one would a prize animal.

It was small consolation to hear the distant explosion, proof that this dictatorial arrogance was founded only on superior numbers, not superiority, but consolation nonetheless. The Archon had stomped away to tend to the rest of his ship as the Salarians ran as fleas on a dog about, causing chaos where they could (much to Vetra’s silent approval – _If you’re going to poke the giant, at least do it in a way that’s hard to catch_ ), and soon his steps were faint echoes down a faceless corridor. There was but one problem – They were still hanging.

Vetra looked over to her side, seeing Jaal’s face covered in a sheen of sweat as he too struggled against the restraints, his grunts of effort reduced to soft breath as he did what he could to bear the burden silently. Looking ahead, Vetra could see and hear Ryder speaking to Sam, the distress on his face from the entire situation subdued only by a focus forged under fire which she had come to recognize on him. She didn’t heed the words too much, paying more attention to her own efforts to escape, until she heard a discussion and idea which alarmed her into attentiveness.

“As you know, my access to your physiology allows me to enhance your vital signals when required. I could also do the opposite.”

Vetra’s head turned as she heard that, the initial shock of the implication being enough to stop her from reacting truly to the idea as the conversation continued. Ryder, naturally, protested, the small shifting in his body as he tensed up at the idea evidence enough to his dislike of the concept. But, as Vetra listened, she realized, as Ryder, that there weren’t any other options.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

Vetra’s mind raced at the thought. _It’s crazy, yeah. But, SAM’s done some amazing things: controlled remnant technology, identified impossible signals, piece together a murder nobody else could have solved. Plus, I mean, the mission is sort of in ruins right now. If we don’t get out of here, everybody – from The Salarians to all of The Initiative – will go down. So, it’s not like we have much of a choice._

With Adrenaline coursing through her veins Vetra spoke up. “You’re Crazy, Ryder”. If she were being honest with herself, she’d admit that the idea, beyond all the practicality and utilitarian arguments behind it, rather excited her, in a go-to-a-new-galaxy-and-then-drive-the-Nomad-off-a-cliff kind way.

With little warning Wes’ head rolled to the side, his body going limp as the energy binders disappeared from view. The sound he made as he hit the ground was sickening, like a sack of produce being thrown in a market. His head rolled back, green-blue eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling as Vetra watched him lay entirely motionless.

It was odd, for her, seeing him like this. She had seen death first hand before – there was no way to travel The Milky Way as work for hire without confronting it with uncomfortable regularity. But to see a friend – her friend – her best one in all of Andromeda lay on the floor, empty eyes lifelessly looking into infinity… it was unnerving. Her plates crawled and any alarm which she should have felt at the idea came rushing into her mind, a fog of worry and concern drowning out any pretense of excitement as she watched Ryder, subconsciously holding her breath.

She counted.

1… 2… 3…

“Sam!”

Her voice held more worry than she had perhaps intended, even some small part of her still excited at the idea of what she was witnessing. But there was no hiding, through posture nor intonation, just how worried she was as her eyes darted from side to side and her mandibles twitched with how tightly they were held to her face.

She counted again.

1… 2… 3…

Thinking back about it, the idea was slightly horrifying to begin with – _Killing Ryder, just to get out of a trap? There had to have been a better way. Some, clever hacking move or something. We didn’t have to… suspend him. Kill him. I mean, look! What if he doesn’t come back? What if he’s gone, the ship no longer has a captain, Andromeda doesn’t have a pathfinder, and I don’t have a…_

With ferocious tenacity Vetra’s stomach leaped from the proverbial ground it had hit when the trap was sprung straight to her mouth, the response unexpected as she imagined a Heleus without Ryder… a Tempest without Wes…

_Well… yeah. He’s a friend. Of course you care about him! Certainly about him dying!_

_But is he just a friend?_

_Yes._

_Really? Because you don’t shudder at the idea of friends being gone from y our life forever._

_Maybe I do._

_Not like this. Maybe it’s time to admit it to yourself, Vetra._

_Admit what? I see nothing to be admitted._

_You’re really going to play this game while he’s dead on the floor? Come on. We can move on, find healthy ways to deal with it, maybe even pursue it, just as soon as you admit that you…_

Ryder sat up, a gasp of breath breaking the silence as he supported himself on his arms. Vetra breathed an audible sigh of release, and she suspected Jaal did too (though she couldn’t tell for how ardently she was watching Rambo for signs of damage).

“That’s twice now I’ve come back from the dead. Can’t say the experience is improving.”

Relief flooded her veins until she could swear she felt her plates relax around her. She looked at Wes’ face, his eyes clearly hiding concern over what just happened, a quip his go-to deflection method after anything he didn’t want to talk about. A quick exchange and she and Jaal were back on the ground, running onwards to the Archon’s chambers. They ran forwards, fighting and desperately clawing their way through one problem after the next, as they had their entire time in Heleus. But as they did, Vetra’s eyes tended to linger on Wes just a few seconds more.

Nexus, 2215

Like most areas on the Nexus, this one didn’t have a name. Sitting on the Nexus’ version of the Presidium (which also lacked a name, though current candidates were “The Cluster”, “The Promenade”, “Spacewalk”, and most amusingly “Just-Let-Us-Off”; all gotten from a station-wide survey) the skyscraper stood 250 stories tall, but still dwarfed by the massive ceilings of the new spacestation. It was designed to be part of the “Home-like” housing offered by the station, for those who didn’t want a window to the rolling void and instead liked views of trees and lakes and future throngs of Andromeda citizens.

One of roughly 250 like it, modeled after the buildings on the Citadel, there was one large difference which set Tower 113 apart: a ballroom. It was designed to be a “Luxury Complex”, complete with floor 150 pool, numerous fitness facilities, banks upon banks of holovid booths, and a penthouse/rooftop ballroom. The floors were furnished in luxurious turquoise carpet (a luxury which had gone out of fashion in the space-faring age, and largely confused most Krogan for it being “too soft and squishy, just like humans”) with apartments the size of most of the station’s “houses”. Every wall seemed to have a recessed terminal hidden somewhere, and the entire space was bathed in a soft glowing light the tone of which could be changed with a simple voice command. While it’s residences were currently empty, the ballroom was still suitable for celebration. And Celebrate the Nexus did.

Once news had reached the station of Ark Pararchero’s rescue the denizens of the station had erupted with celebration, cheering and hugging as another victory came rolling through their desolate cluster, another beacon of hope illuminating a possible future many had forsaken. Few knew of the Archon, or the artifact, but it was enough that, in a few days, the Ark would return. The Tempest had escorted her home, Ryder conferring constantly with the Salarian’s new pathfinder to get him oriented to progress made, the demands of the job, etc. Gil had worked practical miracles on the ark’s shot ODSY drive, and Vetra had disappeared goodness-only-knows-where, only to return with crates of rare-vintage Salarian Ice Brandy. The ark had docked easily, to much applause from the ops center and indeed the entire station, followed shortly by a hero’s welcome for the Tempest as her engines cut and the landing gear sighed under the weight of the elegant spaceship.

She now stood, across the station, draped with decorative blue and white lighting, standing across the synthetic night as a symbol of progress and hope. Music thumped throughout the ballroom as the VIP’s of the station celebrated together, looking across to see the rest of the station shrieking their joy on the roofs of other buildings, ballroom or no. The entire “block” was lit up as Earth on “Alliance Day”, blue and white light filling the massive space as music echoed through the station.

Ryder’s invitation had been automatic, his crew’s tendered at his request. All had thrown on the closest thing they had to “dress clothes” – not having originally packed much formal gear for their excursion into the new galaxy. Arriving at the door, a sleekly mirrored elevator rocketed them up to the top floor where a slightly-drunk Kesh greeted them with Krogan abandon (a state which had almost left the pathfinder’s crew with a few broken ribs) before they were welcomed into the larger party. It was a mass of some of the most senior members of the Nexus, from work foremen to ops crew to senior scientists huddled in the corners and walls, grabbing conversation where they could. Drinks were flowing from an automatic bar, and a nouveau-pop song was pounding through the hidden speakers. Gil, Liam, and Peebee had immediately ran for the bar, quickly with glasses of whiskey, beer, and Ryncol respectively before disappearing into the throngs; Drack had laughed at Kesh’s display of drunkenness before going to join some of the few Krogan left on the station in what looked like a mostly-emptied area. T’Perro joined some of her scientist friends, gracefully skirting the crowds as she grabbed a glass of water to responsibly sip throughout the night, and Vetra seemed to have disappeared altogether.

Ryder, however, was left to socialize with the station’s true “elite” (or so Tann considered them) in the closest thing to a private room the area had: a small glass-walled eating area in a far corner of the space, furnished with a small table upon which were set glasses of Turian, Salarian, and Human Champagne. Conversation was made, a mix of political parlance and genuine excitement. All of it made Wes uncomfortable. He fiddled with his Pathfinder jacket, making skirting eye contact and downing Champagne at a semi-alarming rate. Tann regaled them of stories of how Jien Garson had so favored him over others who could have been in line to assume control of the initative, his chest practically swelling as he swung his influence and power around. Kandros’ parries were sufficiently potent to silence Tann shortly after he began, but done in such a respectful fashion that he had no way to protest beside frantic gestures and hasty interruptions. Addison seemed to be in a semi-sour mood for the beginning of the evening, but warmed up nicely after two glasses of champagne, quickly diving into complaints of the stresses of colonial affairs, aspects which Kandros scoffed and Tann tried to turn into an advantage to much the same effect as his bragging.

After about an hour and a half of stunted diplomacy, Ryder eventually escaped the room by a hasty excuse, walking over to the bar, ordering a Thessian Sunrise, and then making his way to the window. He stood in front of it, staring out at the station at night, smiling at the frantic yells and thumping music which could be heard across the space, sipping the blue-glowing drink through it’s small, curly straw.

“Finally manage to escape?”

Wes looked up, Vetra’s bemused face next to him as she stood next to him, looking out with him as she drank from a glass of Turian Ale. Her usual heavy armor had been polished to a sheen, all the scratches and dents from the years of action it had seen buffed out to a mirror polish. Her usual purple half-cape had been exchanged for a swath of white cloth with three blue stripes running vertically down it, a pattern which Struck Ryder as suspiciously close to the curtains in the rooms downstairs.

“Something like that. You don’t clean up too bad for a celebration like this.”

“You don’t look half-bad yourself. New outfit?”

Ryder’s outfit was indeed new. Moving away from the blue and white, he had changed the color of the bulk of the jacket to a dark red, a few shades darker than the accented colors on his father’s armor. The collar, button line, supporting shoulder bands, and seat of the pants were left plain white, and the side panels colored Initiative blue. Unlike most of his time onboard the Tempest, he wore the shirt buttoned up all the way, and with a white mock-neck sweater, giving the whole outfit a semi-uniform appearance. The overall effect was that of a distinct pathfinder uniform, neither expeditionary red, nor pathfinder blue, nor engineering grey, but rather a combination of both, a uniform of unity.

“Yeah, figured I’d finally change it.”

“And why’s that?”

“An outpost on Eos, a science research station on Havarl, and one more ark home… I guess I’m finally starting to feel like a pathfinder.”

“About damn time. It’s how we’ve all seen you this whole time.”

“Flattery isn’t going to get you less duty, you know.”

“It wasn’t.”

A pause as they both stared off into the distance. Ryder spoke first, heat burning under his face as he somehow felt awkward at the silence, wanting desperately to talk but finding no such words.

“Nice party, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

Again, a pause. Again, Ryder tried to start a conversation, the fun-loving atmosphere behind him lost as he felt an odd desperation to keep the conversation going. Had he been less consumed with desperation, he would have noticed the look of deep contemplation plastered to his friend’s face.

“Where’d you get off to? You pretty much disappeared as soon as we walked into the door?”

“Huh? Oh, just some friends.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah.”

A third pause. Wes could feel his heartbeat pounding as he found himself struggling to come up with something – anything – to say. He and Vetra had sat in perfectly comfortable silence before, but for some reason he felt compelled to get her to talk, to interact, to enjoy themselves at this party.

“Wes, I have to confess something.”

Ryder’s face immediately turned to concern as he turned to face her, his eyebrows lifting in curiosity.

“Oh?”

“Let’s go somewhere a bit more private.”

Ryder gestured at the stairs to the roof, following Vetra as she walked up to the slightly quieter roof area, finding a quiet spot behind some planter-kept bushes squaring off a corner. Leaning against the balcony, Vetra continued.

“I confess: it really bothers me. What you did on the Archon’s ship.”

The furrows in Wes’ brow deepened.

“Dying, you mean?”

“Yes. That.”

“But… it didn’t seem to bother you in the moment.”

Vetra inhaled deeply, bowing her head as her mandibles flared for the exhale. She breathed three more times before continuing, her voice uncertain, as though she were expressing feelings she herself was still testing.

“I know. But that was in the moment, with all the adrenaline, the Archon, the _mission_. I’ve been thinking about it since, though, and it bothers me. What you did.”

“Do you think I shouldn’t have done it?”

“No, no, not at all. SAM was probably right: it was the only way out. I just… what if you hadn’t come back? What if SAM hadn’t been able to restart your heart? It seemed like an awful lot of luck that brought you back…”

“And luck can run out on you?”

“Well… yeah.”

Ryder chuckled dryly, shaking his head as he took a long swig of his drink without the straw, his face smiling thinly but serious concern borne of hours of contemplation sitting behind his eyes.

“I get it, trust me. It… it wasn’t pleasant. At all. And for how much SAM can do, bringing me back to death definitely seems like the most impossible; implausible, I guess. But I made it. I’m here. That’s enough for me.”

“Is it, though?” The consternation in Vetra’s voice was palpable in her subharmonics. “Is it enough, Wes? Because it’s definitely not enough for me. You almost died. Not almost, you _did_ die, and almost didn’t come back.”

A pregnant pause. Vetra’s breath was heavy, her armor expanding and contracting with her breath. It was an odd reaction for her, being this stressed talking to a friend about this… but it gave her clarity. She continued.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t have done it, Ryder. But you were dead for 5.8 seconds. What if it had been longer? What if you had stayed dead? Without you, the Initiative would fall apart, lose momentum. The Tempest would be grounded again, the crew disbanded.”

A pause before she continued.

“None of us want to lose a friend. None of us… I don’t… nobody wants to lose you. And on that ship we came uncomfortably close. And yes everybody’s being as nonchalant about it as they can, but that’s just dodging the issue. But I can’t. It’s… You’re…”

Wes interrupted her softly, his voice full of concern, thoughtfulness. For the mostpart he was soft-spoken, but tripped on his words occasionally, his heart jumping into his throat anytime he seemed to talk about losing Vetra, hastily covered up.

“I know, Vetra. Really. Trust me. I don’t, didn’t, want to lose you… I mean, all of you. But I made it. Yes, there might have been some luck involved. But what here hasn’t? Surviving the Scourge, not getting wiped out by the Kett. Heck, even just having you with me… the whole tempest crew, I mean. It was all pretty much luck. So, yes, I got lucky. And yes, it bothers me too. But we’re going places nobody has ever gone before. You don’t do that without a little luck on your side.”

Vetra’s brow plates dropped as her right mandible closed the distance to her jaw, the left one flared. She exhaled forcefully through her nose, turning from Ryder to stare back into the distance, her eyes squinting as she considered the statement. Wes’ heart felt as though it was about to beat out of his chest, felt in the pads of his fingers. He didn’t know why – while a stressful subject, it had never spiked his heart rate to think about before. Nonetheless, though, he calmed his breathing as best he could and matched Vetra’s stare into the mid-distance. Eventually, she spoke.

“I guess you’re right.”

A dry laugh from Wes as he turned, a rye grin on his face.

“Damn right I am, I’m a pathfinder.”

Vetra laughed again, the tension and conclusions being hastily pushed away for favor of the rest of the party.

“What was that about being unsure of yourself before?”

Wes smiled shamelessly, backing out of the area back to the party as he spoke, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Please. Pathfinder’s are never unsure! I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

With that Wes turned around, walking to the Party. The smile which his sarcasm had brought to Vetra’s face quickly slipped off, replaced by concern as her eyes followed him through the crowd. They were filled with concern, thought, and something else… something she couldn’t quite identify…

Nexus Docking Bay, 0315

The stumble back to the docking bay had been an event to put it mildly. Having danced through the past four hours, Wes had finally found Vetra to head home in a state which was best explained by the five empty drink glasses on the bar. Pathfinder though he may have been, he still partied as thoug he were in college. Truth be told, Vetra wasn’t much better, but being the more stable of the two she walked them back to the docking bay, pulling Ryder up as he tried to sleep in every patch of grass and bushes that they found. The party was still rolling in the background, but it was clear that it was time for both of them to head home.

Right before they had made it up the ramp Ryder had declared drunkenly and to the world “Alright, I’m done!” gone more boneless than he had before, and laid down not six feet from his ship. Vetra tried to drag him to the ship, but the addition of dead-weight was too much for her inebriated sense of balance and she was soon sitting next to him, changing gaze from between him and the station, left alone with her own thoughts and internal conversation.

_It still bothers you, doesn’t it?_

_What does?_

_Please. Wes’ death._

_When did we start calling him Wes? That’s awfully casual, isn’t it?_

_He doesn’t mind. Seriously, though, it still bothers you._

_Well… yeah._

_Why?_

The single question stopped her in her tracks as she watched the human sleep in a small ball next to her, passed out against the cold deck plating, no regard for the outside world as his heavy breath carried him into a dreamless alcohol induced sleep.

_Because… he’s a friend._

_I think we both know he’s more than that._

_Fine, a best friend!_

_More…_

_No, really! He’s my best friend._

_Really?_

_Yes._

_Bull._

_Why? How is that Bull?_

_The three hour conversations in his cabin? Teaching him to shoot? Taking him to meet Trivenia?_

_He’s… a special best friend._

_Vetra…_

_Really!_

_Vetra…_

_I love him._

The thought struck her like a ton of bricks. While it seemed to come out of nowhere, the more the words hung in her mind, the more sense they made, more natural they felt. Her breath paused, and as if he could hear the conversation, Ryder shifted in his sleep, moaning softly as he moved an arm under his head.

_Or, I think I do._

_Isn’t that enough._

_Maybe?_

_So, you love him._

_Maybe._

_What are you going to do about it?_

_Nothing._

_Nothing? Really?_

_Yeah. Nothing. He’s the pathfinder. The human pathfinder. I’m just some Turian who knows how to make deals. I’ve got Sid to take care of. We’re best as friends. _

_But, what would you be if you were better than friends?_

_I don’t know. But I don’t want to. We’ve been down this road before. Gotten hurt. Gotten others hurt. Wes and I work together. We’re part of a team on which this whole effort is based. If he and I… don’t work. If things go bad, we can’t have either of us falling apart. Besides, we have no indication that he feels the same way. And if he doesn’t… that’s just not a road we want to go down. So, we do nothing. We continue to be his best friend. Continue to work well with him. Pretend we don’t love…_

Before Vetra could finish her thought, Ryder stirred, mumbling drunkenly as he stood up. With a small laugh Vetra watched him stumble his way onto the Tempest, the automatic doors a blessing from the technological era. She followed him into the ship, watching him as he bumped down the cargo bay and into the hallway, her eyes following him with a new warmth as he collapsed into bed. His snores were concurrent with his head hitting the pillow.

Vetra herself stumbled out of the Pathfinder’s cabin, her armor not even coming off as she fell into her bunk. She closed her eyes, but her mind was anything but quiet, like a million bugs buzzing around at her new admission. She thought long and hard about the blackness which her eyelids brought, and eventually her mind was quiet enough that sleep found her. But through her dreams, whenever Wes would appear (as he had for the past few weeks, though her memory would never let her remember) a warmer smile graced her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I posted. While I was intending to post more over the summer, my time has been split in more ways than I was anticipating. I start my new job in July, and it's going to be very intense, so no guarantees on how often I'll be writing. But I promise you: I will keep writing. And, at the very least, I'll finish every story I have right now. 
> 
> I thought it was strange how the game was so non-chalant about Ryder literally dying on The Archon's Ship, so I wanted to try and delve into that more, essentially head-canoning that it really does bother Vetra, but she was too adrenaline-poisoned and mission-focused to notice in the moment. 
> 
> Regardless, hope you enjoy! I love likes, and comments are my lifeblood, so leave them if you want! Enjoy!


	8. Parallel Course

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Vetra's realization, she works through exactly how to deal with it while her sister decides to moonlight as her.

Pathfinder’s Quarters, 2345 Hours

There were two unusual things about the Pathfinder’s cabin. First, the smell of coffee wafted from the cabin into the main corridor outside. It was nothing unusual to smell coffee forward of the research room, Wes’ addiction to coffee was apparent to the entire crew, except perhaps him who ardently refused to admit it. What was slightly unusual, however, was the hour. Addicted though he may have been, Wes’ was adamant about not consuming coffee after 2100 hours, something he said he had picked up in the Alliance, a strategy to ensure that what little sleep he did get on the ship was valuable. His enforcement of this personal rule had been absolute during their time underway, so as Vetra walked by and smelled the familiar bitter odor, she took a step to the door.

The second unusual thing about the Pathfinder’s cabin was the fact that the door was closed. Ryder was a perpetual fan of keeping his stateroom door open, enjoying the view it afforded him of the Crew’s berthing and being able to hear activities on the rest of the ship. No matter how much space and privacy it afforded him, he was rather less-than-fond of being shunted into his own stateroom, away from the individuals who, in his mind, were the only reason any pathfinder mission at all was possible.

Vetra approached the door, the soft hydraulic hiss revealing the cabin to her. The wafting scent of coffee only got stronger as she walked in, as well as the classical music playing in the background becoming audible.

The room was empty upon first review, but as she turned to the right she saw evidence of Ryder’s occupation: coffee pots, plates, water cups, coffee cups, even a few clothes were strewn from him like debris from an impact, leading her eyes up to the Human who sat with what looked like intense focused, bent over his desk. There were two datapads and an input pad on the desk beneath his gaze, his hand loosely holding a stylus.

She walked behind Wes, placing a taloned hand on his chair.

“What are you up to Ryder?”

No response.

“Ryder? Hello?”

She reached out and shook his shoulder, only to step back with a small gasp at Ryder’s head sinking to the desk slowly, with a soft thud as it hit the ground. Her heart rate spiked as death was her mind’s first thought, but quickly returned to normal as she heard the deep breathing of the Pathfinder, realizing that he had instead fallen asleep at the desk.

_I wonder what it says about me that my first thought is that he’s dead…_

She stepped to Ryder’s side, watching his chest softly rise and fall as his head lay, peacefully, upon the desk. Her brow plates lifted slightly as she watched his eyelids lightly flutter, the hand in which he held the stylus twitch ever so slightly. Her mind thought back to the same face, the same breathing pattern, on the landing pad of the Tempest not a few days ago. Again her heart rate jumped as she remembered the moment, remembered the revelation which came with it. Ryder began to stir, and she quickly pushed the thouhts out of her mind, focusing on the adorably bleary blinking of the man in front of her.

“Vetra? Hi, what are you…”

“You fell asleep at your desk. I smelled coffee, wanted to investigate.”

Ryder sat up, rubbing his eyes as he did so.

“Yeah, well, I guess the coffee didn’t work the way I had intended.”

Ryder stood up, gesturing to the couch. Vetra shook her head.

“No, I didn’t mean to interrupt, just checking everything was okay. I know you don’t like to drink coffee this late.”

“I appreciate that, thanks. I could use the break though, stay for a bit.”

Vetra blushed in her own Turian way as she sat down, and was thankful that Ryder was inexperienced enough in reading Turian body language and facial expressions to not notice. As the two sat, Ryder produced a carafe of something other than coffee, pouring the thick, green liquid into a three-fingered cup, steam rising lazily from the cup as Ryder offered it to Vetra. She gave him an inquisitive look.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah, Shulsnek. Or however your pronounce it.”

Vetra laughed.

“Not like that!”

“I expected as much. Anyways, I try to keep a pot on hand for when you come by, figured it was kind of selfish for me to be the only one with a drink on hand whenever we have our talks.”

Vetra felt the head under her plates from her blush get even more intense as she took a sip of the drink. While a little stale, it was passable nonetheless, and more than anything she was hoping that the cup would prevent Ryder from seeing the deep color of blue her face was turning, the kindness of the gesture obvious to her, in a way that she was certain wasn’t just fantasizing.

“Aw, that’s sweet of you Ryder.” _Dammit, Vetra, you keep saying things like that, he’s gonna suspect something._ “So what are you studying?”

The mention of his studies caused Ryder’s face to become almost instantly exasperated, his eyes glanding downwards and his lips pursing into a flat line.

“It’s stuff for my Captain Qualification.”

“I thought you were already captain of the Tempest?”

“By necessity, yeah. But according to Andromeda Initiative Regulations the captain of every crewed vessel must complete the ‘Space Vessel Command School’. Pilots have to go through a similar program to get their quals. All the pathfinder’s went through the program, but since I’m new to the job, I never did. So, here I am.”

“So they gave you command of the Tempest, and then expected you to qualify for it later?”

“Yep. And let me tell you what a ball that is.”

“What all does it include.”

“Normally, the program would take 6 months. Classes for 8 hours a day, then studying the rest. Two exams every two weeks. It covers everything from orbital dynamics to nuclear physics to FTL mechanics.”

“Sounds intense.”

“It is. Only thing is, I’m expected to do it in 4 months, and I don’t have time to take off in a classroom to do it. So most of it is self-taught, and then Kallo acts as my tutor when schedules allow.”

Vetra laughed, taking a sip of her drink while Ryder exhaustedly shook his head.

“I’ve been wondering where you’ve been lately. I was scared you were avoiding me after the party on The Nexus.” _More accurately, I was scared that I had said or done something drunk and you don’t feel the same way. But I won’t tell you that._ “Sounds like you’re in need of a break, Wes.”

Ryder laughed, gesturing to her as he spoke.

“Speak of the Devil and she will appear.”

“What?”

“Old human phrase. Talk about something and it will come to you, I guess.”

Vetra thought for a second, following the statmement before her face filled with feigned indignation.

“Are you calling me a distraction?”

Ryder laughed.

“Please, Vetra, you’re much more than that.”

Vetra had never felt her heart-beat spike in so short a time before in her life. She sat, speechless for a few moments – _No, he meant that you two are good friends. Don’t read anything into it… stop it! No! I thought I told you not to… okay, this is hopeless._  Blissfully, Ryder didn’t seem to notice, and kept talking.

“So, how’s the rest of the crew?”

“Huh?”

“Well, since I’ve been cooped up in here for so long, I haven’t seen much of anybody besides in the galley and Kallo for my tutoring sessions. How is everybody?”

“Oh, you know, their normal selves. Peebee is still trying to convince everybody that she’s just here because it was convenient and not because she wants to be. Drack only threatened to eat people three times this week, so that’s an improvement. Cora is as moody as ever… but don’t tell her I said that. Liam is, well, Liam. No other way to describe it. Oh, and Jaal has discovered the joys of Blasto. He’s been binging it for, like, a week and a half at this point.”

“I thought I heard that through the ventilation system. He hasn’t made you watch it with him, has he.”

A grim turian nod.

Ryder extended his hand in fake consolation, taking Vetra’s.

“I am so sorry.”

Vetra’s stomach jumped a few feet higher in her torso. _Really? Really? That’s all it takes? I swear, sometimes you’re like something out of a bad love-story fanfic!_

Vetra laughed, slyly swatting Ryder’s hand from hers to try and continue ignoring herself.

“I suppose we’ll manage. Have you heard about the response to the Salarian’s rescue on Kadara?”

“No, I haven’t!”

“Well, apparently quite a few people there have friends on the ark. Tri was saying that there was a huge celebration, the entire town partied for a few days as a result. It’s doing some good things for The Initiative’s reputation down there. Though they see you as a slightly separate entity, so it might just be you they like.”

“Well, I’m sure we could use that to our advantage. There are a few guns and mods there I’d like, if they were on sale.”

“Wes, I’m almost offended! You wanted something and you didn’t ask me?”

Ryder chuckled, leaning back as the friendly banter and conversation sapped the stress and anxiousness he had been feeling over his training away.

“I know, what a terrible, terrible friend I must be.”

“Oh, absolutely. And a horrible pathfinder too. And ugly, and mean, and…”

“Yeah yeah, I get the point, I’m just an all around piece of space garbage. I get it.”

Vetra chuckled, shifting slightly on the couch. She took another sip of her drink, her subharmonics happily purring in a register which Ryder couldn’t hear. _Now, whether that’s for the drink or being with him, I’m not certain I want to know. Ancestors, I really need to sort myself out…_

After a short pause, Vetra spoke.

“You ever think about what this whole thing will look like when it’s done?”

“What do you mean?”

“What will the Initiative be in, say, another 600 years?”

“Weren’t we talking about this earlier?”

“Yeah, we were. But I’ve been thinking about it some more, about how it all works...”

Ryder settled down into the couch, adjusting to be more comfortable as he heard Vetra get ready to launch into one of her long thought-experiment discussions. Throughout the course of their late-night talks they had become common occurrences: Vetra would open a topic and discuss it out loud, while Ryder interjected a thought here and there. To an outside observer it would invariably seem odd, one-sided, a Turian ruminating out loud while her human side-kick threw an idea up every once in a while. But to both parties involved, it was the most natural thing in the new galxy.

Vetra’s mind, through training or naturally (and assuredly a combination of both) worked best through odd connections of seemingly unrelated ideas. She would draw lines and relations which nobody else could see, causalities which spanned degrees of separation, conclusions which seemed bizarre at first but the most natural ones to come to when further explained. Ryder, on the other hand, was a man whose mind worked in logical procession, travelling from each step to the next with discrete, easily explainable steps. He had an impulsive streak, one needed look no further than his Nomad driving to see that, but he was, at his core, a man of thought and logic; one of the many reasons why he had been able to succeed so well as Pathfinder. So while Vetra’s mind jumped from point to point, building future cities from the dust in the sunlight, Ryder followed her to ensure the thought train had track enough to get from A to B.

Wes listened to Vetra as she painted a world a couple centuries in the making. Gestured wildly as her seldom-seen imaginative streak came out in full force. By trade she was normally scrupulous, shrewd, utilitarian almost to a fault. But the same history which had forged these skills had likewise exposed her to enough of the galaxy, enough of the prejudice and faults with the status quo that she couldn’t help but dream of a better future, see the possibility which came with the unknown. It was seldom seen, too few fell within her circle of trust, even on the Tempest, to be aware of Vetra Nyx’s dreamer side. But Ryder was the privileged few who got to see it. And as he relaxed, sipping cold coffee and trying to follow her line of thought, he smiled slightly for it.

Vetra stopped, looking at Ryder curiously.

“You’re smiling.”

His smile deepened, this time bemusement mixing into whatever emotion was on it before.

“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”

“You are. Definitely. I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all! It’s just… I don’t know where you come up with this stuff.”

Vetra laughed, sitting down from a standing position she never remembered taking.

“Neither do I. I honestly never talk about this stuff with anybody else. Only you.”

_Gee, I wonder why?_

Ryder smiled deeper again, a warm light sitting behind his eyes as he regarded his closest friend for billions of lightyears.

“Well, I’m glad you do. It’s a good side of you.”

The small grin on Vetra’s face left, replaced by an unsuspecting expression of guilt.

“Maybe. I should spend less time dreaming about the way things could be and more time making them that way.”

“If there’s anything you do enough of, it’s work. Let yourself dream a bit. What’s a new galaxy if not a new place to build your dreams?”

Vetra laughed, finishing off her drink.

“Maybe.” _If he only knew what dreams I’d like to build._

_Alright, nope. That’s it. We’re getting out of here before you say something bad, and we’re thinking about this for a good long while._

_What’s there to think about? You even said you loved him that night._

_Well… said to yourself. It’s progress._

_Yeah, but that doesn’t mean my eyes have to melt every time I see him and I turn into a little girl again._

_Isn’t that sort of exactly what love is?_

_Shut up._

“Vetra? You doing alright? You spaced out there for a bit”

Vetra’s eyes re-focused on the wall in front of her, a quick smile replacing the thoughtful expression she was wearing earlier.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Great. Awesome. I’ll get out of your cowl now, Wes, you’ve clearly got studying to do.”

“You can stay if you – “

“No, it’s alright, I have things to do. You have studying. You know where to find me.”

With that she was gone, the hydraulic hiss of the stateroom doors riding her heels as she left. Ryder was left standing in front of the couch, coffee cup hanging loosely in his hand. His expression was puzzled – his brain ran this way and that as it tried to figure out why the sudden exit. After a few minutes he brought himself out of his reverie, physically shaking his head as he walked to the desk, speaking softly under his breath as he did so.

“No time to think about that now. On to Intra-system FTL dynamics. Lucky me.”

With that his datapads lit up again and his eyes scrutinized them as hard as his focus would allow. Only problem is, while his body was at his desk, his mind was still talking with Vetra, and there was a distinct melancholic feeling in the back of his head at seeing Vetra go.

Tempest Armory, 2230 Hours

The soft hum of the HVAC systems filled the ship as the Pathfinder walked through, all the crew save Cora and Dr. T’Perro asleep. In order to sustain constant operations with a crew not even a quarter the size of a normal cruiser, the entire crew had gotten preliminary helmsman and engineering training. During transit, when they were in deep space and operating normally, they would take turns working long shifts. There were two long-watches per week, one to handle the ship from 1800 to 2400, the other from 2400 to 0600. This week, it was Cora and T’Perro on the first, Liam and Kallo on the second.

Wes made a habit of walking the ship when he was thinking, found the movement and change of scenery a nice refresher from being cooped in his stateroom all day long. He would wander up and over decks, occasionally stopping to stare out the vast windows of the conference room or staring, mesmerized, as the fluidic blue aura which surrounded and danced around the drive core, enjoying the low white noise. Tonight, though, as he walked through engineering, he heard the soft beeping of an omnitool and terminal, accompanied by soft dual-toned muttering and cursing.

He walked forwards, the door set to open only upon request. Pressing the doorbell, he heard a muted sigh of exasperation from inside before a couple of armored footsteps and the pneumatic hiss of the door brought him face to face with a very agitated Vetra.

“Gil, for the last time, I’ll get you your… oh, Ryder, it’s you.”

Wes’ left eyebrow cocked up as his expression morphed from confusion to concern. Even to his human eye it was clear that Vetra was stressed, high-strung, moreso than normal. Her brow plates sat low on her face and her mandibles quickly oscillated from being tightly pressed against her cheeks to wide open. She calmed slightly when she saw Ryder, gesturing him in with a slightly less manic set of motions.

He walked inside, a quick scan of the desk and the cereal boxes and meal bars around it telling him just how stressed and worried Vetra was. He leaned against the table behind the desk as the turian sat down in the chair, falling into it as though some weight were pulling her.

“Ryder, what can I do for you?”

“I was just walking through, heard you were up. Wanted to see how you were doing.”

“I’m fine, thanks. Anything else.”

The response was short, tense, said with a bite to her tone which was usually only reserved for annoying customers, the those individuals who she didn’t feel she had time for. While Wes was slightly taken aback by being on the receiving end of such a tone, normally he watched it in parallel, he nonetheless kept his face still, only raising a single inquisitive eyebrow in response, staring Vetra down.

The two held eye contact for three, four, five seconds before she finally cracked, her brow plates releasing upwards and her entire posture relaxing, as a spring which has been compressed a little too much. Her head sank down, her arms relaxing onto her legs as she sat farther back in the chair. Ryder continued to watch her, his expression a mix of shrewd observation and genuine concern.

After a few moments, she spoke.

“I’m sorry Ryder. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s alright, Vetra. What’s up?”

“Just cleaning up the mess my sister really made, figuring out just how far she went to make it. It’s not good.”

“You going to recover?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Most of my contacts figured out it wasn’t me and were waiting to find out what happened. A few are annoyed that my kid sister was able to get as deep into my systems as she was, but they don’t know Sid.”

“You know, she’s not a kid anymore, Vetra.”

A new layer of anger flashed in Vetra’s eyes as she looked back at Ryder.

“You don’t think I know that? Trust me Ryder, I am painfully aware of just how much she isn’t a kid.”

“Then why do you keep calling her your ‘kid sister’?”

“You’re going to latch onto that? It’s just a phrase, something I’ve said forever. It’s…”

“Something you wouldn’t use anymore if you didn’t still believe it.”

Vetra’s head physically moved back at Ryder’s words. Her expression stormed with confusion, anger, resentment, curiosity. Her mandibles spread wide again, then back to her face, repeating the process as her eyes darted between Ryder’s. Eventually, she spoke, softly.

“Maybe… Maybe it’s what I want her to be.”

“What do you mean?”

The sound of her chair was deafening against the quiet hum of the ship at night as Vetra stood and walked to her window into the drive core, staring up at the fluorescent blue orb, Ryder watching from behind her as she spoke.

“When Sid and I ran away, when it was just the two of us, I did everything I could to stop her from realizing just how bad things were. We got to comfortable eventually, but the people I had to deal with to get us there, the things I had to do to earn it, I didn’t want her to have to see them too. What I do – make deals, keep contacts, it isn’t a nice line of work. I’m good at it, yeah, and it’s treated me fine over the years, but it isn’t exactly the most… reputable, of jobs. I want something better for Sid, something more.”

“You really want to protect her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Ryder. Maybe it’s because I never got much protection myself. Maybe it’s because it helps me to feel like I’m giving her what our parents never did. I don’t know.”

Vetra’s voice reached a new pitch of exasperated, annoyed, her body tensing as she worked her way through thoughts and feelings she would much rather be a stranger to. After a few minutes, Ryder pressed on.

“She’s not a kid anymore.”

A deep sigh from the window.

Quietly: “I know.”

Ryder paused, collecting his thoughts before he spoke. As he did so he walked towards Vetra, standing abreast from her as the two looked up into the drive core compartment, watching the blue mass effect field move and oscillate.

“After mom… died, Dad took me out fishing on earth. Some lake, somewhere in North America, I don’t even know where. We got out there and sat for hours, silently catching fish. It was, honestly, really awkward. At one point, though, he turned to me and started speaking, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget what he said. He said ‘Son, I want you to know, that everything I’ve done, I’ve done it for you.’ Yeah, I know, it sounds cheesy, but when Dad said it, anything sounded cool. Maybe that’s just because he was my Dad, I don’t know. Anyways, he said ‘The hardest challenge for any parent is to teach their kids how to be their own person. You have to give your children enough guidance that they know where to go, but enough room that they go there as their own people, as themselves. I’ve always aired on giving you more room, your mother was better at giving you guidance. Sometimes, I may have given you too much room, been too distant. And I’m sorry for that. But I hope you’ll understand, someday, that I did it for you, to try and let you be yourself.’ “

Vetra laughed slightly at Wes’ impression of Alec’s grizzled voice, his brows furrowing as he tried to imitate the infamous N7’s unique way of talking. He continued.

“Now that he’s gone, I’ve been thinking about that. Yeah, I think he gave me a bit more room than I needed, and I wish I had known him better. But on a certain level, he was right. Maybe that’s what you need to do with Sid.”

The sound of the HVAC filled the room as the two sat in silence, both staring forwards vacantly at the core. Vetra spoke, almost absentmindedly.

“Mabye. Maybe.”

Almost physically she shook herself out of her thought.

“Haven’t we already had this conversation?”

Ryder laughed, smiling at her.

“Yeah, we did. Pretty close to right after we got back. You were complaining about the genome for Cats. Did you ever find it, by the way?”

Vetra laughed, rolling her eyes as she thought about the process of doing so.

“Yeah, I did, eventually. I’ve got it waiting for me on The Nexus. I don’t think I had realized just how far Sid had gotten when we talked.”

“It alarms you, doesn’t it?”

“Well, yeah. Ryder, these are dangerous people. They’re pretty much the biggest reason I keep an assault rifle with me all the time. Well, besides the Kett. But who in their right mind would want their kid sis… their sister, wrapped up with those people.”

Ryder laughed, holding his hand up in mocking helplessness.

“Hey, I’m not saying you have to like it. Just, give her some space.”

Vetra sighed, frustratedly.

“I thought it would be so… easy, to let her go her own way after we last talked. Thought it’d be as simple as not getting involved. You’re right, Ryder, she just wants to help people, to make a difference. And I guess that’s more of what we do than I give it credit. Certainly now. But the more I find out what she did, the more I imagine her having to deal with those people, having to be in the line of fire, the harder it is for me to let her.”

“I think everybody with a younger sibling can empathize. Nobody said it had to or was going to be easy. But, it’s probably something you should think about.”

“I know, I know. I already conceded. Have I told you just how much I hate it when you’re right?”

“I think you mentioned it, yeah.”

“Yeah? Well, stop it. You’re allowed to be right about pathfinder things, not about me.”

“Oh really? And how are you going to enforce that?”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways. I’ve learned a few tricks in my time.”

After she spoke, Vetra suddenly realized just how close Ryder was now. He was still standing at the edge of the window, wearing a smirk which she had come to love and hate in equal amounts since meeting him. She, however, seemed to have steadily moved across the window, leaning towards him until her face was mere centimeters away from his.

_When did… how did… Huh._

She pushed back, trying (and failing) to hide just how surprised and startled she was by her constant drift towards Ryder. Wes’ eyes darted to the side as she did, a slight bit of confusion coming to his expression as he too realized just how close they had gotten, and just how much he had enjoyed it. Vetra coughed, awkwardly, Ryder moved his shoulder, working out a bit of tightness after their rescue of Sid. Silence.

Ryder spoke, awkwardly.

“Well, uh, I should… go back to… studying. And such.”

“Yeah, I’ve got… work.”

“Talk to you later?”

“Yeah. You know where to find me.”

Pathfinder Cabin, 2330 Hours

Ryder laid in bed, staring at the plating above him. He knew he should be asleep, his sense of time had gotten painfully good since he gained full access to SAM. But, still, he couldn’t sleep, thoughts debating and discussing in his head.

_What the hell was that?_

_I don’t know. She got so close and we…_

_We got excited about it._

_Yeah, like, heart-pounding, stomach in throat excited._

_Why?_

_She’s a good friend?_

_Come on. Liam’s a good friend and we’ve never gotten that feeling. Same with Cora._

_So, there’s something different._

_Yeah, but what?_

_Well, let’s work through this. If we get this feeling about one individual, but not others, then we only need to find the difference between Vetra and everybody else, and we’ve got our answer._

_What a nerdy way to go about this._

_You’ve got a better way?_

_I’m you, we’re both the same voices, talking crazily inside our own head. Of course I don’t have a better way._

_Alright then, what are the similarities?_

_Well, we’re all on the pathfinder team. We’re all good friends. We all go on missions together commonly._

_Alright, differences?_

_Cora and Liam are biotics, Vetra is more tech oriented?_

_I can’t see why that would affect it. Next._

_Liam and Cora are humans, Vetra is a Turian._

_Aliens have never given me issues before, and I really don’t think it’s that. Next._

_Uhmmm… We don’t have long late-night conversations with Liam and Cora._

_No it can’t be that because… actually, that’s a good point. Let’s take that._

_Well, why do we talk to Vetra so much?_

_Because we like listening to her thoughts and sharing our own. It’s a nice stress relief to have a best friend to tell things to and hear their take on the situation._

_Alright. So we enjoy her friendship._

_Yeah, pretty much._

_Moreso than Liam and Cora. Or at least, more consistently and for longer._

_Yeah, friends vs. best friends._

_So, why would we get excited at being physically close?_

A new voice butted in.

_God, you’re all so thick._

_Who are you?_

_The one with the answer._

_Again: we’re all Wes, just talking crazily to ourselves._

_So it was a dumb question then._

_Yeah, I guess so. Anyways, why are we thick?_

_Because the answer is obvious._

_Oh?_

_Yeah. Who doesn’t get excited around somebody who they love._

_Oh,yeah, I guess that makes sense. Plus it… WAIT WHAT?_

_Come on, don’t tell me you don’t see it. The late night conversations, the fact that Vetra is literally always with us on mission, the times we spend hanging out on The Nexus, the times on Kadara._

_Well… huh. Alright, yeah, you’re right. It’s completely consistent. I guess we love her._

_There’s no guess in it. You’re way farther over this cliff than you’re giving yourself credit for, Wes._

_We’ll deal with that later. Do you think she feels the same way?_

_I don’t know. Probably not._

_Why not?_

_Look at it. We’re a human, she’s a Turian. She’s this badass smuggler who’s done almost any job the galaxy has to offer and is just as able to talk you into giving her what she wants as shooting you for it. You’re the son of a pathfinder who’s trying, and doing a moderate-at-best job of leading the Initiative with little to no training, who barely even knows how to do his job not to mention anything else._

_Alright, point taken. So, we keep it from her._

_Yeah, as best as we can._

_Something tells me this isn’t going to be fun._

_Something tells me we should go to bed._

_Maybe. But I want to stay up and think about this._

_For the last time, we’re all the same person. This is literally just a thinking exercise. So, we’re going to bed. Now._

Galley, 0630 Hours.

Vetra adjusted her armor as she stood in front of the mirror in crew quarters, ensuring everything was snugly secure, shaking out a few components as a final check. Try as she might she couldn’t fall asleep as early as she should have last night, her mind just as pre-occupied with the incident in the armory as Ryder’s. For how small it was – just standing closer together – she found that it was a much bigger deal in her mind, her feelings magnifying it into an incident of some importance.

She walked out of crew berthing, taking the short, 3 foot walk across the corridor into the galley, the door opening in front of her to reveal Ryder, bags under his eyes, making himself a breakfast ration pack. Vetra caught herself as her stomach jumped a few times, suppressing the blush which seemed to come every damn time she saw him now.

“Morning, Ryder.”

Ryder looked at her, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly looked back at the coffee cup. His revelations from the night before left him blushing at just the sight of Vetra, his internal dialogue blowing up as he forced himself to speak.

“Vetra, morning.”

The turian walked to the counter, grabbing a dextro breakfast pack and popping it into the second food rehydrater. The smell was pleasant, though she new it smelled better than it tasted. An awkward silence sat between the two, Wes becoming incredibly interested in his own ration pack, Vetra examining the deck plating as though it were the most engaging piece of art in Heleus. Eventually, Ryder spoke.

“Sleep well?”

“Not really. You?”

“I’ve had better. Any particular reason?”

“Just thinking some things over. You?”

“Same. Wanna talk about it?”

Vetra cursed the ancestors as she physically shut her mouth for a second. _No matter how much you want to, you know that’s a terrible idea. You have no clue if he feels the same way. Don’t do it._

“Not really. Need to think it through a bit more. You?”

Ryder’s own blush became a shade darker as he became even more interested in pulling the ration pack out and mixing the salt into his eggs. _Ryder, no. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way. Save the friendship, don’t say a damned thing._

“Not really. Same thing, need some more time.”

The two sat down, across from each other, both looking at the table between them intently, both wearing an expression of somebody who wants to say something but thinks better of it, neither being bold enough to look up to see it on the other.

As they ate their breakfast in relative silence, both thought through the night before, their discussions, their feelings for each other, newly revealed for Ryder and just as perplexing and alarming for Vetra. Both were dying to tell the other something, anything, act in any way on how they felt. Neither was sure enough to do so. Both of their inner monologues followed much the same structure, mini-Ryder’s saying near imperceptibly different arguments from the mini-Vetra’s across the table. But at the end of the day, they both came to the same conclusion:

_I’ve got to do something, or this is going to be way, way, way too long of a mission. Why the hell did I have to go and fall in love with them?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for not updating this for a while, I've been giving some love to one of my older ME3 stories lately. But, I figured it was time to move this one along. Hope you all enjoy it! As always, kudos are appreciated, and comments excite me incredibly every time, be they input, criticism, or just saying you like the story. So, let me know what you think, where you think I should go, any input you may have; and most of all, enjoy!!!


	9. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ryder uncovers the memory triggers, old skeletons are unearthed. Figuratively, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well would you look at that: two chapters in one day. I hadn't intended to write this chapter, but I heard a song which inspired the first part ("I got a name" by Jim Croce if you're wondering), and just had to get it down. I'm getting concerned about the pacing of the past three chapters. They feel fast. But I also figure that's how real relationships go: long build-up, fast realization and beginning of the relationship, slow continued building of it. Either way, drop me a line if you have any input on that. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this! I love feedback, as always - I intend to write so long as I know people still read what I write. Please, enjoy!!!

Nexus Memorial Garden, 0630 Hours

It was a simple memorial – a single wall, eight feet tall, sitting along two adjacent walls of the memorial garden. Made of polished steel, names and dates were inscribed in neat rows starting from one side and reaching for the other, having filled up only the first half of the first side. A pedestrian path followed the wall, lined with lights which illuminated the inscriptions from below.

The memorial was created after the uprising, once the dust had settled and loved ones had been found, when bodies were recovered and cries of despair shared. The entire process was treated with a universal solemnity, the uprising making veterans of them all. Pieces of the station were taken from the debris, melted down and forged into a single, continuous piece, pre-built and bent to specification. There were contests for the design of the gardens which took up the rest of the memorial garden; the winning design was a circular flower bed with paths running a crosshair through it, flowers from all the species’ home worlds mixed among each other in a demonstration of the solidarity which a new galaxy necessitated. Atop the wall was inscribed a passage from a letter found on a Turian rebel soldier’s body after a battle:

“May the memories of those lost be the foundations of futures built.”

It was later discovered that the soldier was killed by his own brother, a recruit of the then-growing security forces. That detail was never officially revealed, but had since become part of the station’s local lore.

As the simulated sun rose above the horizon, a single figure stood in front of the wall, dressed in a plain shirt and pants, no flower, no letter, no token of memory or appreciation as littered the seams at the base of the wall. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking up at one of the most recent names, moisture building in his eyes as they threatened to tears.

A Turian approached from the figure’s left side, doing everything she could to be quiet, somberness never her forte. As she approached the human, she looked up with him, reading the name which stood among so many others.

“Alec Ryder, Human Pathfinder; 2129 – 2819”

She spoke, softly, the dual tone of her voices similar so as to sound as soft as possible.

“Death makes equals of us all, but sends our actions to eternity.”

Ryder looked towards her, blinking frantically as he tried to keep his eyes dry. His voice cracked, slightly, as he spoke.

“Huh?”

“Old Turian proverb. My dad used to say it all the time. The full version is ‘Run towards the battle and fight with valor, for death makes equals of us all but sends our actions to eternity.’ Seemed appropriate.”

“Yeah, Dad would have liked that.”

A short silence as the station sat on the precipice between night and day around the two. Ryder spoke again.

“I miss him.”

“I didn’t think you knew him terribly well?”

“I didn’t. And, I think that’s why. Dad was never terribly good with kids, my sister and myself included. When I was younger, I always dreamed of being old enough that he and I would be able to stand as equals, speak to each other without the hang-ups, the awkwardness, the friction. I came to Andromeda, and I thought I had honestly found that. And then…”

Ryder’s breath caught as he lost the battle with the moisture in his eyes, sniffling slightly to try and keep his composure, his eyes shutting while a single tear ran down his cheek.

Vetra looked towards him, reaching out to him in every way but physically. Her face was a perfect portrait of Turian concern, her body language oriented towards Wes as she turned more towards him instead of the wall. She recognized the names on it, some of the ones preceding Alec’s were friends of hers. But Vetra didn’t keep friends, not the way other people did. To her, friend was synonymous with useful. _That is, until The Tempest. Until Ryder._

She looked to the wall and saw more lost opportunities than lost friends. She could empathize if she wanted, fall into the trap of imagining the pain which each name on the wall brought to countless people in an already hostile galaxy. But that was a rabbit hole nobody on the station got caught in. Maybe once they knew they would survive they could truly mourn their dead as a group, a community. Until then, though, they would carry their loss individually, see only the names they needed to on the wall, for their own sakes, for everybody’s.

Ryder spoke, again, his voice cracking as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“I don’t… I don’t think I really let it sink in, at first. That he was gone. When Mom died it took me a few months to really accept that she was… is… gone. And that was when I wasn’t doing much. But here… Dad dies, I become pathfinder, and next thing I know we’re saving the lives of everybody in this galaxy. But now that I think about it, now that I really let myself…”

Wes stopped, his eyes closing as his chest began to heave in poorly concealed sobs. Vetra’s Turian ears could hear his ragged breath, the small cries which were hidden with pursed lips under his sobs, the sounds of a grown man trying to believe that he isn’t a young boy anymore. Wes took his right hand out of his pocket, reaching forwards and touching his dad’s name, not bothering to look up to find it, not needing to.

Vetra took a step closer as Wes continued to cry, tears dripping onto the floor in a soft stream, small droplets forming smaller puddles on the ground beneath him. She watched as he became a boy again, a lonely ten year old watching his father leave for another length of time he couldn’t comprehend, for another mission he couldn’t understand, torn from him no matter how many times he begged and cried and did all his chores and made daddy as proud as he could. She watched as he became a teenager once more, staring silently at the floor as he denied as ardently as he could how much the empty seat at the table bothered him, how much the absence at his school games ate him away when he looked over to see his mom and sister, waving as enthusiastically as they could. She watched as he stood on the threshold once more, his father drifting out of his grasp by means more permanent than a hover car this time; as he realized that there was no return trip from this one.

Wes closed his lips tighter, mustering all he could to pull his voice back together, glancing quickly to the side to Vetra, daring to show her his blood shot and weary-red eyes before he spoke.

“I… I wish he were here. We need him… I need him. He always had a plan, always knew what to do.”

Another sob, another one held back only by patience and will. Vetra took another step forwards, a hand extending to rest on Ryder’s shoulder, a show of support and solidarity in the typical turian way. He continued.

“But, more than that… more than any of that… I just wish I had more time. There was so much I didn’t know, so much we never talked about. Mom, Sarah, all of it. He was never there when she was alive, and when she... left... well I think it broke him a little. All I wanted from him, when we got out here, was a chance to put it back together. To be the son he wanted, and have the Dad I needed. But now…”

Again, Ryder’s voice broke at the thought and he let his chest be carried by another round of sorrowful sobs. Vetra stood, awkwardly, her hand still on Ryder’s shoulder. It was uncommon for Turians to show so much emotion period, not to mention to individuals they had known for less than lifetimes. She looked around, slightly, as if to gain some insight as to help her friend from the plants around, but Ryder’s breath continued, and she continued to watch as he broke a little further with each moment.

Her heart screamed, as loud as Ryder’s sobs would be is not held back, as she watched her friend – _more than friend –_ fall to pieces in front of her, standing helpless as it happened. It reached a fever pitch. She reached out, pulling Ryder into the best approximation of a Human hug she could muster. The height difference provided difficulties, Ryder’s head ended up squarely on the top edge of her breast plate, but she held him as tight as she could, as tight as she had wanted to, as she felt his chest rise and fall in her arms.

Wes was startled by the move, not expecting such comfort in a place, a galaxy, where he had concluded that comfort was a luxury not afforded to those who blazed the trail, but it was far from unwelcome. His breath calmed slightly as he felt Vetra’s arms around him, felt her warmth through the soft-suit under her armor. Softly, she spoke, the vibration from her subharmonics spreading through his body.

“I know, Wes. I know. I won’t pretend to be good at this whole… feelings and comfort thing. And I know that’s a lousy way to comfort somebody. But here’s what I am good at: judging character. And if there is anybody with a more upstanding character, with more potential to lead this whole circus to greater heights than it had ever imagined… I have yet to meet them. You’ll make it. You don’t need him to set the path anymore.”

Wes nodded in the embrace, struggling to keep speaking.

“I… I know. But, I want him. Dammit I want him, Vetra. I want him, I want Mom. I want Sarah. I want this whole damned galaxy to stop giving us opportunities and hope only to take them away three seconds later! I want it to be easy for once, just for once, to not have to make the decision which dictates who lives and who dies! I want…”

The resentful anger and passion which he had built up dissipated as his shoulders hunched farther forwards and Wes hit the bottom of his emotional well.

“I want to go back home.”

Vetra looked down, startled, having never heard Wes say something even remotely similar to that before. Her face was instantly furrowed with concern as Ryder avoided her eyes, staring intently at the ground as the repurcussions of what he, of what the human pathfinder, had just said hit him. He pushed slowly away from Vetra, his motions filled with the lethargy of a man who had conceded, who had gone up against everything two galaxies could throw at him and come up short, defeated, a lonely warrior in the sands of time and battles past.

Without warning, he turned, walking away brisk steps carrying him quickly out of the memorial garden as Vetra watched, dumbstruck, only running after him a few moments afterwards, once her wits found her again.

Apartment 7113, Tower 5, Nexus, 0703 Hours

After chasing Wes through the Nexus, she eventually came face to face with the closed door of his quarters, his real ones, not the stateroom on the Tempest. _Well, I suppose it depends on what you define as real, doesn’t it?_ She pressed the doorbell, punishing the poor panel as she tried to follow him, tried to help him out of desperate love. The soft chime went off inside the room, echoing through what she could only presume was a somewhat large room, met mutely with deafening silence. She tried for minutes, pressing time and again, the chime becoming as close to a continuous tone as the programming would allow. Eventually, however, she stopped, dropping her poor hand to her side as she turned around, sinking down to the ground with her back against the door.

She sat, and waited, staring at the wall across from her as she thought about what had just happened, what had just been said, what change had just come over Wes. People passed by, giving her strange looks which she didn’t, couldn’t notice. All of her but her body was in that apartment, with him.

After a quarter of an hour the response chime sounded and Vetra shot up, standing up as the doors opened with a hopeful hiss, revealing a standard nexus apartment in which a single occupant sat. The furniture was the typical mix of soft grey and stark white with the occasional blue accent, none of it moved since it was originally placed by the appearance of it. There were no hangings on the wall save those that were given with the unit, and Vetra noticed even the kitchen looked barely less than new.

The only thing in the apartment that wasn’t standard issue was Wes, sitting on the couch in the middle of the apartment, staring at a photograph in his hand. Vetra walked slowly over, sitting down next to him looking at the photo as she did so. It was one of a young Wes and Sarah, both hugged tightly by a smiling pair of parents. Vetra pivoted her head, considering Wes’ face as he stared at the picture. His expression was blank, passionless, as neutral as it could possibly be; and that, more than anything else, worried her. Without prompting, he began.

“Look at me. A pathfinder who wishes he were home. How rich is that.”

His voice was laden with cynical disgust as he tossed the photo onto the coffee table in front of the couch, the pristine frame and glass showing that it was not a picture which was used to this kind of treatment. Vetra spoke softly, carefully, with the softness of a woman walking through a room of sleeping demons.

“What brought all this on?”

“After we got back from the thing with your sister, I took some time to go through the eidetic triggers I’ve found. Seeing Mom, Dad, when they were young it… got to me. I don’t just watch them, I feel them, like being a passenger in somebody else’s body, somebody else’s mind. And, in this case, that somebody is my Dad.”

“So you were reminded how much you miss him?”

Wes physically flinched at the last pair of words, nodding slowly with pursed lips before continuing.

“Yeah. One thing led to another, you got to sit through the ugliest parts, and now I’m the pathfinder who just wants to go home.

Vetra  reached out, taking Wes’ hand as she spoke.

“Wes, it’s okay to…”

“No, Vetra, it’s not!” Wes’ raised voice started Vetra as he yanked his hand away, thrusting his hands into his pockets before taking them out, combing his right hand once through his hair before crossing both his arms in front of him. He paced while he spoke, angrily gesturing as he practically yelled at Vetra.

“It’s not okay! I’m a pathfinder, for god’s sake. If I miss my Dad, fine. If I miss my mom, yeah, that’s okay. But wanting, and _saying_ , that I want to go home?! That’s just damn right inexcusable. I’m supposed to set the course for these people, for all of them. You know what that means? Huh? Because if you do, let me know, because I have no goddammed clue! But what I do know, what I do know, is that it doesn’t mean wanting to just run back home like a scared little kid. What I do know is that it means I have to want to be out there, everyday, finding them new places to go. Because if I don’t, we all die. And yet…”

“And yet, here you are wanting to go home.”

“Yeah! Some pathfinder that is. ‘Oh, I miss my mommy, oh my daddy is dead now.’ Look at me! How many other people on this station have lost their families, huh?! How many others came to Andromeda for a new future with somebody only to get them ripped away by the Scourge, or the Uprising, or the Kett? And are they out their wasting time getting sad? No! They’re doing their jobs, like people should.”

Vetra’s voice rose in tone as she began to get annoyed with Ryder’s self-belittling tirade.

“Wes you’re too hard on yourself you should..”

“No, Vetra I shouldn’t! If I let up on myself, we don’t make it. Dad knew that. He got it. Sometimes, I wish I was more like him, because for how much I hated him when I was younger for never being home he got his missions done, he saw them through. Maybe I should do that to, huh? I don’t know. I just don’t know! But I do know that Alec Ryder was the Pathfinder we wanted, the Pathfinder we needed. He was the father I never had, and I was going to get him as one now. But you know what?” he laughed, manically. “That’s not going to happen! Nope! By dad, hope you enjoy _being dead_! And it sucks! Yeah, it sucks hard! So now I’m left having never gotten to know my dad, Sarah’s in a coma, we’re all barely surviving out here, and you’re left with a second-rate…”

“Enough!!!”

Vetra stood up, yelling as she did so. Her mandibles flared with unconcealed anger as she walked towards Wes, grabbing him firmly by both arms and giving him a strong shake as she did so. Her voice was loud, hard, angry with a specific love woven into her words.

“I would never tolerate anybody else talking to you that way, and I don’t know why I’m letting you. So stop it. Now.”

“It’s not your responsibility to tolerate anything on my behalf!”

“No, it is.”

“How? How on earth can it be your…”

“Because I love you, dammit!”

The words were out of Vetra’s mouth before she knew what she was saying.

The two stopped, staring at each other as they both felt their pulses pounding. Moments passed as eternities in their minds as they both absorbed what had just happened, what was just said. The room sat at a sudden still as though time had been frozen.

Eventually, Vetra spoke, her voice kept metered with all her will power.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to stop tearing yourself up about something you can’t control. You feel the way you do, big whoop. You’re going to sit down on that couch and you’re going to tell me exactly how you do feel.”

As she spoke, her vice-like grip on Wes’ arms wheeled him around, setting him heavily down on the couch. His eyes were still slightly vacant, as if he had seen the very nature of the world change before his eyes. Vetra sat next to him, doing everything in her power to keep what little cool and control she had left after her outburst.

“So, tell me.”

Wes shook his head, physically startled by the prompt. He let out a large sigh as his eyebrows sank on his head and he cradled his chin in his arms, resting his elbows against his knees. Slowly, cautiously, he began.

“I guess… going through Dad’s literal memories made me realize just how much about him I don’t know. There were some things in there, some pictures and journals I found in his cabin, about things I didn’t even know he was involved in. And if it were months ago, I would just ask him about them. But having questions without the possibility of answers only makes it more apparent that you don’t have answers.”

He paused, collecting his thoughts again as Vetra watched him attentively, her eyes squinted as she hung on every word.

“Knowing that I’ll never see him again it’s… tough, you know?” Vetra nodded. “It makes me wish I could re-wind time, go back to a simpler one when I could ask all these questions and we were still a family. I guess that’s what I mean when I say I want to go home. I left the milky way with a family of three. As of right now, I’m the only one standing. I would never have known until now, but that makes you feel awful alone in the galaxy.”

Softly. “I know.”

A small human chuckle. “Yeah, I guess you do. Who am I to complain about absent parents, right? But I think that’s what I mean. That I want to go back to having a family again, a place, a clan. Add onto that all the stress of being Pathfinder, and you’ve got yourself a nice little toxic Wes Ryder cocktail.”

Vetra nodded, staring intensely at Wes’ face as she monitored both his expression ad his vitals, checking both for signs of lying. Seeing deceipt in neither, she accepted the answer, sitting a little farther back in her chair.

“Wes, it’s okay to want all that. And it’s okay to be stressed. But you’re not alone. The Tempest crew – it’s like a family. We’re all there for each other. I know this is a lot for you to work through, and that you need some time on your own. But while you do, we’re there, I’m there, for you.”

Wes looked up, smiling weakly as he nodded at the turian.

“Thanks, Vetra. That… that means a lot.”

Vetra stood, turning to leave.

“I’ll leave you to think things over. Promise you won’t keep beating yourself up over this?”

“Promise. Oh, and Vetra?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

All the heart attacks in Andromeda caused less skipped beats than that one statement.  

Andromeda Initiative Messaging System V2.6

[Vetra] (1900) Hey

[Ryder] Hey

[Vetra] How’re you doing after this morning?

[Ryder] Better. Still pretty messed up, but a lot less so. Thanks for talking some sense into me.

[Vetra] Somebody has to. Not beating yourself up anymore?

[Ryder] It’s an ongoing thing. But not for that, no.

[Vetra] I guess it’s progress.

[Ryder] I don’t mind too much. So yeah.

[Vetra] (1915) So are we going to talk about this morning?

[Ryder] What do you mean?

[Vetra] Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, you know exactly what I mean.

[Ryder] Really, you’re going to do this over text? We’re literally less than 10 meters away from each other.

[Vetra] Yeah, I am. At least here I can re-read and edit things before I hopelessly blurt things out.

[Ryder] Fair enough.

[Vetra] I like to think so.

[Ryder] (1930) So did you mean it?

[Vetra] Wow, that message took a full 15 minutes to write?

[Ryder] Just 15 minutes of revisions and re-reads.

[Vetra] Well played. Well played. How’s the space weather looking?

[Ryder] Thanks. Stop Dodging. Did you mean it?

[Vetra] (1940) Yes.

[Ryder] Now look who’s taking the long time to type.

[Vetra] Shut up.

[Vetra] Did you.

[Ryder] Yes.

[Vetra] So what now.

[Ryder] I don’t know. Go on dates?

[Vetra] Doesn’t that seem a bit serious?

[Ryder] I want you to read over the past half an hour of texts and tell me it isn’t already serious.

[Vetra] (1942) Okay, fair enough.

[Ryder] You actually read over all of them, didn’t you?

[Vetra] Don’t know what you’re talking about. Look who’s doding now.

[Ryder] Fair enough. I guess, if both you and I were telling the truth, then this is worth exploring.

[Vetra] Leave it to a pathfinder to make love sound like an expedition.

[Ryder] You love me.

[Ryder] Wait

[Ryder] Poor word choice on my part. Sorry.

[Vetra] Don’t be, seemed entirely appropriate, actually.

[Ryder] Fair enough. So… dates?

[Vetra] Can’t really think of a better place to start.

[Vetra] Anything you want to get out of the way before you ask me out?

[Ryder] Not really. I mean, you took me pretty much entirely by surprise this morning. Not like I prepared a speech or anything.

[Vetra] Joined the club. I didn’t even mean to say that this morning.

[Ryder] No? How long have you known?

[Vetra] Dinner and a few drinks, then we’ll go over how I fell in love with you.

[Vetra] Does it feel weird to see it aloud like that to you too?

[Ryder] Gotta admit, yeah, it does. Wanna agree to keep that word put away until we’re a little more… sure, of things?

[Vetra] Good idea. Let’s do that.

[Ryder] (2003) There’s a levo-dextro diner on the Nexus that just opened. Wanna try there tomorrow night.

[Vetra] You’ve got yourself a date.

[Ryder] The Pathfinder Project of the Andromeda Initiative: The galaxy’s most expensive pick up line.

[Vetra] Haha.

[Ryder] (0330) One more thing?

[Vetra] Ryder. It’s 330 in the morning. What?

[Ryder] With regards to how serious we keep things, want to keep them light? Like, if either of us decides this isn’t what we thought, we can leave with no repurcussions? And in order to find that out, we can see other people if we want?

[Vetra] Yes

[Ryder] Just Yes? Is that a “Yes, I like that” or “Yes, that’s tolerable”?

[Vetra] That’s a “Yes, it’s 330 in the f*cking morning, now go the hell to sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.

As Vetra drifted back to sleep and Ryder returned to his studies, neither had any intentions of trying to see anyone else, and both felt a warm glow in their chest which hadn’t been there for a long time.


	10. First times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes and Vetra go on a date

The Following Day, Tempest, 1900

Hands. Ryder had lugged the same pair of hands around for 22 years (656 really, but he had decided going by relative time would be easier in the long run about 600 years ago); at times they had done remarkable things: held his sister, thrown a ball, played piano, written an essay, even driven a starship for a few years. But now they hung like awkward bags of nervous energy at the end of his arms.

He looked around, awkwardly, rubbing his palms against his pants to try and dispel some of the energy. It didn’t work. They only got awkward and sweaty again. _Because that will be a great way to start a first date._

The strip that the restaurant was located on, “The Golden World Strip”, was relatively new – even for the newly built space station. A few bulkheads off the beaten path, it had been among the areas which had sprung to life once the Nexus’ survival had been more secure, a luxury afforded only after they knew that even their basic existence could be somewhat assured. Now, however, it was among the busiest of the shopping strips, boasting an impressive selection of food, shopping, and other entertainment.

The space itself looked and felt much like the main ring of the Nexus, but was much smaller and lacked the towering sky-scrapers and speeding cars. It was roughly 150 meters long, and 50 wide, a slight curvature visible as it hugged the inside of the station’s profile. Lined on either side by shops, their neon omni-signs flashing in the simulated dusk, the center of the space was divided into two walk-ways by planters periodically popping up, containing some interesting shrubbery from various species’ home worlds. The strip had a second and a third level, balcony lined walkways extending from the elevated shop fronts about 10 meters, creating a pleasant din of activity that echoed throughout the chamber. At the very top of the space, a curved ceiling projected a simulated sky, assisted by various projectors at strategic points along the road, effectively making it appear the entire complex was out-doors – save for the occasional Station Wide announcement from the heavens.

Ryder found a bench while his eyes spastically darted around, and he forced himself to sit down on it, hands resting comfortably at first on his knees, before they collectively began to fidget again. His back was uncomfortably straight as his mind raced, mental wheels spinning and kicking up enough smoke to cloud his vision from the inside, but gaining no traction on any particular thought.

Vetra appeared at the edge of the boulevard.

Stepping out of the transit station she stood to her full height, her visor obscured eyes a head taller than most of the aliens around her. Shrewdly scanning, her visor calling out known faces and silhouettes, she eventually saw Ryder, sitting on the bench, staring at her as if frozen. She felt her plates tighten, an oddly nervous reaction for a friend whom she had spent so much time with, and forced her right hand up, a stiff, awkward wave over her head to him. He waved back.

She started to make her way to him, swimming through the crowd until she finally got into the correct walkway, quickly carried forward by the tide of people. As she got closer she could feel her heart begin to race, her plates now as tight as if she had just fought a varren with her bare talons. A quick look at Ryder, once he was within range, revealed his heart was racing too. _Well, at least we’re both nervous._

Seemingly without warning, Vetra was right in front of him. He stood up, wiping his hands one last time on his pants before decidedly jamming them into his pockets, hopeful the small confinement would make them feel more natural. It didn’t. Ryder spoke first, his voice as eager and free of anxiousness as he could make it.

“Hi Vetra!”

Luckily, Ryder’s human ears couldn’t quite hear the nervous tones that were in Vetra’s subharmonics, her voice seeming oddly monotoned as her second tone slipped into a high register which made the Turians around the two tense uknowingly.

“Ryder. Nice to see you.”

“You uh, you too! Wanna head in?”

“It’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

The two turned to walk inside the restaurant, only a couple of meters away. Ryder pulled his hands out of his pockets to walk, his left hand colliding with Vetra’s a couple of times as they were jostled by the crowd, each time sending electric shocks through his body. He had no way of knowing that Vetra had felt the same.

The doors to the restaurant slid open smoothly and they were greeted by the friendly, if slightly over-eager, Salarian maître d’. Within minutes they were sitting at a table, both intently studying the menu as they fidgeted slightly in their seats. Eventually, the young Turian waiter came and took their orders, barking specials and marching to and away from their table with fresh-from-the-force crispness.

And then, it was just them.

Ryder felt his stomach drop a little bit and his palms moisten immediately as the waiter walked away, nothing but an expanse of table cloth, water glasses, and emotional uncertainty between him and Vetra. Timidly, he began the conversation.

“So… how have you been?”

A raised brow plate preceded the response.

“Ryder, we talked literally an hour ago.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess we did…”

Silence.

“Wes, are you okay?”

Without realizing his eyes had wandered, Ryder’s head jerked from his deep scrutiny of an overhead light fixture to find Vetra, leaning forwards over the table, looking at him in an intent way that woke every butterfly that had ever lived in his stomach.

“What, me?”

“Yes, you! We’ve been on this date’ Ryder flinched involuntarily ‘for twenty minutes and you’ve barely said three words. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Another raised brow plate, this one silently demanding more.

“I guess…’ Ryder sighed, deeply, steeling himself for the act of honestly ‘I’ll be honest, Vetra, I’m nervous.”

“Nervous? About what?”

“This.”

“Taking me on a date?” The brow plate raised even higher as the opposite mandible flared out in mild amusement.

“I mean… yeah. For some reason, it’s not…”

With impeccable timing the waiter came with their appetizer – a plate of what looked vaguely like fried calamari, if not for the obscene purple color on the inside and the smell like tomato sauce. It was one of the few dishes on the menu fit for both Turian and Human consumption, a “Safe choice, sir” as the waiter had remarked with a slightly too-knowing look. Ryder thanked the young turian quickly, doing all he could to get back to the conversation before his boldness ran away.

“Sorry. Anyways, for some reason, this isn’t like all the other times we’ve hung out. Now it’s… I don’t know, now it’s a date.”

Pure Turian amusement.

“Why, yes Ryder. That is exactly what this is.”

A smile cracked through the nervous façade as Ryder reached out and playfully swatted at Vetra’s arm.

“You know what I mean! Dates are different. They’re more important, I’m supposed to impress you, be smooth now, all that.”

Vetra nodded, her eyes narrowing as she listened to Ryder.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why are dates more important?”

Ryder looked shocked, as though a singular and universal truth were being challenged for the first time – and for him one practically was.

“Because they’re… well, they’re dates. That just how it works.”

“Ryder, how long have we been friends?”

“Six months now? Maybe longer?”

“Right. When have you ever known me to do things ‘how they work’?”

A silent raised eyebrow in curiosity.

“And when have you ever done things the way ‘they work’?”

The eyebrow climbed higher.

“Alright. So, who’s to say that our dates have to work the way other people’s do?”

Ryder’s face froze, his eyes darting around the table as he thought through the logic, taking it to as much of a conclusion as his nerve-obscured, slightly frantic mind could. Eventually, the eyebrow fell, colour returning to his face as the features which for the past hour had been suspended in a state that had looked more like a caricature of Ryder on a bad day returned to their normal state. His shoulders visibly fell, though he had never noticed that they had risen, and it seemed as though an electric aura of tension evaporated around him. His voice was less strained, though still unsure as he forced himself to follow the attitude.

“You make a fair point. This is just two friends, grabbing dinner. Well, two friends who said some key words to each other grabbing dinner.”

Vetra laughed, a sound which further put Ryder at ease.

“You make it sound like we just had some big falling out.”

“Alright, poor word choice. But I get what you mean. We’ve gotten dinner together plenty of times, no reason this should be any different.”

“Precisely. So just relax.”

The Golden World Strip, 2030 Hours

Ryder and Vetra strolled out of the restaurant smiling, Vetra laughing as Ryder regaled her with mischevious tales of his and Sara’s childhoods. The two crossed the now-thinned traffic on the walkway easily, making their way over to a nearby bench and sitting down, Ryder’s story not missing a beat as his hands flew around in wild gesticulations.

“… And so she turns to my dad and says – I’m not joking – ‘You called them keepers. I wanted to see what they were keeping!’ “

Ryder’s face was lit up as he remembered the petite face with rosy cheeks staring up at a Alec Ryder whose stern composure was barely holding against the assault of youthful innocence. Vetra laughed with him, the two sitting unnoticeably closer together as their laughter died down, both looking out towards the crowd.  

The energy from the story died down and soon a pleasant silence fell between the two, both looking outwards at the occasional groups of passers-by, new and old friends exploring what their new home in Andromeda had to offer, venturing out from under the shadow of survival to their new life. The crowd had an incredible diversity to it, groups of friends made of much more varied species than what was normally seen on the Citadel 600 years ago – Salarians, Humans, Turians, even the occasional Quarian who had come over with the construction crew all together in one giant mixing pot.

The silence lasted for a few minutes, broken eventually by Vetra, who spoke while gently tapping her tallons on her bandolier.

“So… what now, Wes?”

A warm smile turned her way as Wes moved slightly towards her without noticing.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

A turian brow plate rose and a mandible flew out in mischevious defiance. The distance between them closed.

“What are you up for?”

A human eyebrow matched its Turian counterpart, a glimmer deep within Ryder’s eyes and the left corner of his mouth was turned upwards.

“Literally anything.”

Their faces were now centimeters away as Vetra’s eyes shrewdly narrowed and her grin widened. Had Ryder been in full control of his senses, this is the point at which he would have been concerned.

“Promises promises…”

Heleus Café, 2230 Hours

Finding a café that was open this late had been difficult, but with the odd hours which crews worked on the Nexus, not entirely impossible. While the station was not yet the metropolitan giant which its older sister in the Milky Way was, the unrelenting maintenance and work schedules kept the station on a constant 24 hour schedule. Moreover, the lack of a large light source nearby – the nearest star casting the station in a pale blue light which, while pleasant, was nowhere near the power of most species’ homeworlds’ stars – meant that there was no reason for the station’s schedule to be attached to any sort of day schedule. Nonetheless, for ease of communication and administration, the station was kept on what was referred to as the “2 to 1 day” – two thirds of the station was awake during a 16 hour period, and the other during the remaining 8. And if there was one thing most residents – most notably humans – were not giving up, it was their caffeine and cafes.

The shop was small by most milky-way definitions, only 10 meters wide and 20 meters deep, with a small bit of patio seating which protruded out onto the walkway on which it sat. The shop was located off of a major thoroughfare rather than a strip, its proximity to a major maintenance airlock and electrical hub meaning its primary clientele were space-rated and electrical repair crews. The open floorplan was populated with 12 small round tables, a counter huddling in the back manned by a perpetually over-worked, under-rested, and beautifully honest turian. The walls were adorned with various paraphanalia, everything from pictures from planet surfaces to fragments from Sourge damage.

On the patio, the two walked out with their beverages, a steaming coffee and a cultural import called a “Harush Sil Mitya” – a drink Jaal had assured the crew was a delicacy on his world and quite delicious. As the two customers sat down, they both gave their drinks unwary looks before glancing up at each other, curiosity and slight skepticism painted on both of their faces.

Liam spoke first, looking down at his cup of sickly-pink Harush.

“I’ll be honest Jaal, I’m really not certain about this stuff. It smells like… cat food.”

“Yes, Vetra told me about these… cats. I don’t know what they eat, but if it smells anything like Harush Sil Mitya, then they are spoiled pets.”

“We’ll know soon enough. Have you tried the coffee yet?”

“No. Though I do believe I have seen weapons oil with a lighter color.”

“That just means it’s good. Back in HUS-TL we used to live off the stuff. After a long shift on standby, I swear I’d do anything for a cup of good coffee.”

“I’ll trust you then, my friend. On the count of three?”

“One.”

“Two...”

“Three!”

They both pulled the cups to their mouths and took a sip, staring each other down as they let the liquid sit on their tongues, trying to take in all it had to offer. Simultaneously, the both stoically lowered the cups to their saucers, before Jaal spoke, his eyes still locked with Liam’s.

“You first. Be honest.”

“Alright… it tastes like a combination of mango and hot peppers.”

“So… it is good then?”

“I don’t know yet. What did you think?”

Jaal’s face scrunched up in ways Liam didn’t know it could, as if there was a fowl odor not centimeters from his nose.

“I think I have also tasted weapons oil better than this.”

Liam laughed, reaching across the table to slap Jaal on the back.

“Don’t worry, my friend, it’s an acquired taste. We’ll get you addicted yet…”

Suddenly they both heard what sounded like a pair of heavy footsteps and yelling from behind Liam. They both turned around to see the Pathfinder and Ryder, round a corner from an adjacent hallway at a dead sprint, Vetra leading Ryder as he used a biotic field to move his momentum into a turn. Ryder was screaming at Vetra, who was laughing manically, as the two passed the café patio.

“THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT BY LITERALLY ANYTHING!!! NOT WHAT I MEANT!!! HOW ARE THERE EVEN THIS MANY OF THESE THINGS ON THE STATION?!?!”

Vetra turned her head back, yelling at Ryder over adrenaline-high laughter.

“THIS IS TOTALLY WHAT YOU MEANT! I AM SURPRISED HOW MANY THERE ARE, THOUGH!”

From around the corner, the sound of multiple claws hitting the ground could be heard, and suddenly with a deafening chorous of barks and growls a pack of 30 – 40 colorful Varren came running behind Ryder and Vetra. They were running at full speed, the entire pack chasing the pathfinder and Vetra with single-minded interest.

The spectacle passed the café in an instant, Vetra’s maniacal laugh echoing through the space as Ryder desperately tried to keep up, the Varren closing the distance between them at an alarming rate. A singularity from Ryder’s fist lifted a few of them in the air as the entire parade rounded another corner, vanishing from sight and earshot.

Liam and Jaal looked at each other, stunned. Liam broke the silence first.

“Well that was… interesting.”

“It is never dull with your pathfinder.”

“Or Vetra, credit where credit’s due.”

“Weren’t those two going on a… date, tonight?”

“Yeah. Guess things went a little different than expected.”

Tempest Landing Platform, 0130 Hours

Ryder and Vetra sat side by side on the edge of the platform, the Tempest bathed in light behind them, the shimmering red heat sink paneling throwing exuberant lights in all directions. In front of them, the station twinkled in simulated night, what few buildings and rooms were occupying, though the number was growing, lit up and throwing specs of yellow and pale white into the ballet of lights and shadow which made up the space. Pedestrians below them walked amidst the streetlights, their shadows dancing in and out of view as they moved through the gardens and lanes.

A comfortable silence sat between the two as they took time to enjoy the sight, slow down as they both rarely did. The sight in front of them was a beautiful patchwork of light and dark, a station in a new galaxy sleeping soundly amid its own accomplishments, the very peace it contained a testament to the work and struggle it took to get there. Ryder spoke first, softly, laughing gently as he did so.

“Honestly, I still don’t know where those things came from…”

A turian laugh and a smile in the dark.

“I think somebody brought a few pets that aren’t on the manifest.”

“A few?”

“A few… dozen. I’ll have to find out who that was… maybe they’ve got more…”

“Find us a few new golden worlds while you’re at it?”

Another smile, another laugh, a few centimeters between them gone.

“I’m staying out of that one, that’s entirely on you.”

Wes’ laugh got dry as his eyes lost focus, looking farther into the station amidst the black and light mosaic.

“Yeah, well, we’re making it happen. Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Second person you or direct?”

A human smile in the dark, a few centimeters gone.

“Your choice.”

A pleased subharmonic hum.

Vetra shifted in her seat, under the pretense of adjusting part of her armor. The move eliminated the last few centimeters and she and Ryder were now sitting practically shoulder to shoulder. Ryder leaned back, almost unconsciously, leaning up against his hands which he placed on the ground behind him. Vetra did the same, and current flowed between them as her fingers rested slightly on top of his, the contact slight but no less significant for it.

“Thank-you.”

Vetra looked over at Ryder.

“For what?”

“For this, all of it?”

“You’re thanking me for going on a date?”

“Yeah. Well, not just that. For being my friend to. For… all of it.”

Vetra’s subharmonics played at flattered but were primarily curious, a hint of concern in the lowest register.

“Wes?”

Wes looked out onto the station, smiling slightly with a single small laugh escaping through his nose.

“I was thinking, just now, looking at the station, at everything we’ve got, how many times you think something without saying it. Things like how thankful you are for good friends, or how proud you are of your team… I dunno. It was just a thought. Sorry.”

Ryder hung his head, an embarrassed blush coloring his face as he shrugged. Vetra inched her hand slightly to her left, two of her fingers now covering three of Wes’. He continued.

“I have to admit, tonight didn’t quite go as I had planned?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I had wanted to take you to dinner. And in my mind it had been this… super-confident ordeal where I dazzle you with my manly pathfinder-ness and stories of my life back home, and then something cool like a dance club or coffee or even ice cream afterwards. But instead I was awkward at dinner, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do, and then that whole incident with the Varren. It just… it wasn’t the date I wanted to give you.”

“I had a great time...”

“I know, I know… well, honestly Vetra, you’re the first woman I’ve ever taken on a date, Turian or Human. Sure I’ve messed around with a few. But never for real… never on a legitimate date. I wanted to impress you with this one.”

“Wes, I can’t think of anything wrong with this one! I really did have a great time. Whether you were trying to impress me or not.”

Silence. Vetra continued.

“Did I ever tell you about my last boyfriend?”

“No?”

“Good, because he doesn’t exist. There isn’t much time for romance when you do what I do for a living. So we’re both new at this. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect first date you had in your mind. I couldn’t tell. Cut yourself a break.”

A thoughtful expression appeared through the shadows on Ryder’s face. It was some time before he spoke.

“Alright, tell you what, give me a chance to do this again.”

Vetra’s tone was immediately playful, her subharmonics dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re asking me out again already? If you’re not careful, I’ll start to think you actually care…”

A playful swat on her armor released a chortle of laughter from her, over a “you little…” from Ryder. After a brief moment, Ryder spoke.

“Yes, I suppose I am asking you out again. But give me another chance to take you on a real date. Somewhere interesting. I’ll plan it out, get everything ready… I just want a chance to do this all…”

“Wes, you can stop asking. A second date sounds like fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first, off, I'll admit: I struggled with this chapter. This fic, writing these characters, is seriously pushing me as a writer. Whenever I write stuff set in ME3, I have 3 games' worth of character development to work with, and it feels a lot easier to get a good bead on how my characters are supposed to sound. Writing in Andromeda, though... it's a bit harder to try and nail the characters, figure out settings and dialogue which expand the story and stay true to the characters. Hopefully the next chapter turns out better, but this one was... a bit of a reach. I'm also trying to expand my style, experiment with a few new techniques, so that also added to the challenge of this chapter. 
> 
> Lately I've been suffering from a terrible case of "Tons of ideas, but absolutely 0 clue how to put them into words", and I'm Tired of getting your guys' hopes up about updates. So, to set a reasonable goal for myself, here's what I'm going to say (and I know I've made a lot of commitments about updates, but this one feels the most reasonable, so I intend to stick to it). At a minimum, I'll put a new chapter for this fic up by the first of every month. If I have a chapter ready before then, I'll put it up before then. But at a minimum, you will get a new chapter every month. 
> 
> Like I said, this chapter was a bit of a struggle, so comments are greatly appreciated. Questions to, I have so many headcanon ideas that I can't figure out how to work into my stories, I love answering questions. But above any and everything else - enjoy!!!


	11. Evolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ryder finishes his captain qualifications, we see a bit of his alliance past and see if Vetra will ever get her second date.

Nexus Fleet Training Facility, Integrated Bridge Trainer – 0630 Hours

Ryder Stood at the Galaxy Map terminal, palms sweating, heart pounding as he looked around at the bridge. It was a design he had become well familiar with, though it was clearly modeled after an older and more cumbersome ship than his nimble Tempest. He stood in the center of the rectangular room, his galaxy map terminal facing the forwards of the ship, or at least where the forwards end would be were he not in a computerized trainer. The Helmsman sat at his terminal in front of Ryder in the right corner, the Science Officer in the left. Directly to Ryder’s left was the access hatch, and to his right he could hear the soft pings and dings of the Communication Officer’s Panel. Behind him, managing a panel which covered almost the entirety of the astern wall, was the engineering officer, his headset constantly relaying communications to the Engine Room Supervisor back in the engineering spaces. The entire front half of the room was covered floor to ceiling was covered with view screens, simulating the projected-HUD windows which all Nexus starships sported. Overhead, surrounding the room, there was a tidy row of gold-colored one-way mirror windows, the observation deck hidden behind, and on it a board of qualified observers and instructors.

All of the other personnel in the room – trained instructors – were minding their panels with cool professionalism, simulating the operations of a normal starship, the hum of activity which always took place in the brain of an interstellar vessel. Ryder took a deep breath.

_Okay. I’ve studied, I’ve drilled, I’ve gotten 10 training watches under my belt. I know my ship, I know how to do this. My watch, my ship._

The Master Channel announcement system came through over the speakers.

“Mr. Ryder, this is Captain Holbrook, I’ll be observing you today. Please listen carefully, as this watch is different from your previous training watches. Today you’ll be performing your final watch board. Myself and your board of observers will be watching you from the observation deck as you take your vessel through a simulated scenario, designed to test your abilities as a ship commander and captain. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, this is a solo watch, there is no over-instruct. As such, you shall be allowed to continue until your ship is disabled or destroyed, at which point the simulation will be stopped and you will be debriefed. During the watch you will be asked questions, relating to the principle and operation of a Nexux Fleet Explorer Class starship, these will be relayed over your personal comms channel. For the duration of this watch, we will act as fleet command, designator ‘Overwatch’. Do you have any questions?”

Ryder paused to think, chewing the words over in his mind. After a moment, he reached down, keying in the “fleet command” button on his communications terminal.

“No, sir, no questions.”

“Very well, Mr. Ryder. Make a 1MC: Begin Mr. Ryder’s final watch board.”

Wes took a breath, closing his eyes for a second. He let the stress, the anxiety over this final evaluation, wash over him, hearing his heart in his ears. Another breath. _My watch, my ship._ Reaching down to his terminal, Ryder pressed the 1MC button, and spoke clearly, confidently into his omnitool, hearing his voice echo over the ship-wide announcement system:

“Begin, Mr. Ryder’s final watch board.”

He took his finger of the announcement button, his heart calm, his eyes steely and focused ahead, letting the stress and pressure sharpen his senses, erase the early morning fog from his brain.

_My watch, my ship._

Tempest, Pathfinder’s Quarters, 2023 Hours, 7 days ago

“Any news on your board yet?”

Ryder looked up from his desk, laughing as he watched Vetra stroll through his open door, no knock, no waiting.

“Good evening to you too.”

Vetra looked over after setting herself down on the table, startled at the statement.

“Oh, yeah, hey Ryder. Anyways, any news?”

“No, not really. Just that it’ll be in roughly a week.”

“Seven days from today, actually.”

Wes raised an eyebrow, incredulously. “Oh yeah? What have you heard?”

Vetra smiled in her distinctly “I know something you don’t” kind of self-satisfied way.

“I was talking to Kesh just now. She’s not directly involved with fleet issues, but she does know one of the training managers. She said that he said that there is a Captain’s board a week from today.”

Ryder sighed, grabbing his cold coffee cup as he moved to the couch, massaging the developing headache in his temples, his eyes notably tired and the bags underneath them heavy and filled with hours of studying and status updates and readiness reports and many things besides sleep.

“That could be anyone. I’m only one of a class of 30 people. Have to build the fleet somehow.”

Vetra smiled, even wider.

“I know. But you’re the only one even remotely ready for your board. Nobody else is even three quarters of the way through the other quals they need, and you’re the only one with local experience. The most they’ve ever done is piloted cargo ships back in the ‘way.”

Ryder laughed, almost spitting his coffee out.

“Is that what we’re calling the milky way, now? ‘The ‘way’?”

Vetra laughed in return. “Yeah, it is.”

A glare from Ryder made her mandibles fall into her face a little bit, but diminished none of her humor.

“At the very least, that’s what I’m calling it.”

“Alright, you do that, Vetra.”

A pause filled the room as Ryder sat besides Vetra, watching the blue flashes of light from cosmic dust pushed aside by their FTL field flow around the ship. They had been in transit for 46 hours, 32 of which he had already spent studying. His eyes were about to revolt and close themselves. Vetra broke the silence after a beat.

“You know, you still owe me that date, right?”

Ryder swallowed, his blood pressure spiking by a few pounds, stuttering over his words slightly.

“Oh, uh, yeah. What did you want to do?”

Vetra shook her head, emphatically, smiling still, just as mischeviously.

“That’s not how this works. You decide the date, then you ask me out on it. You said you would.”

“I, uh… well, I was thinking…”

A bright turian laugh cut him off.

“You weren’t thinking because you’ve had more important things to do. But I’m holding you to it, Ryder.”

The second human pathfinder hung his head in slight shame and embarrassment.

“Alright.”

Vetra stood up to leave, her heavy metal boots echoing through the cabin. Ryder sighed and laughed softly under his breathe at the same time, letting his eyes close as he laid his head softly down on the couch behind him. Vetra stopped at the door, turning curiously to him.

IBT – 0645

“Officer of the Deck, new contact bearing 335 tau 065, range… 3 clicks. Looks like a distress call sir. Not one of ours but she’s broadcasting on Zulu frequency, it’s definitely a distress call.”

Ryder looked at the red-dot which had just appeared on his galaxy map, nestled in the asteroid belt of the upcoming solar system.

“Very well, Comm. Helm, make your course 330 tau 065. Let’s slide right in behind them to see what we’re dealing with before we rush in their, jets blazing.”

“Course 330 tau 065 Helm Aye.” Wes watched as the direction of the FTL blue streaks changed momentarily through the view screens. He keyed up fleet command on his omnitool.

“Fleet, this is the Allemagne. Made contact with an unknown distress call, not nexus but broadcasting on Zulu frequency. I intend to drop to sub-light in the system, scan for contacts, and then render assistance. Estimated delay to destination, 15 hours.”

After a few seconds the response came through the overhead bridge speakers. “Fleet, Allemagne aye.”

Ryder’s helmsman spoke up, his voice cutting through the constant din of the bridge. “Officer of the deck, steady course 330 tau 065, estimated time to intercept, 3 minutes.”

“Very well, Helm. Comm, report any change in contact condition?”

“Negative, sir. Contact continues to broadcast basic SOS on Zulu frequency, no IFF or status report.”

“Very well, Comm.” Ryder keyed the 1MC on his omnitool, the standard “ping” sounding through the ship as he spoke the red “to talk” button.

“Attention all hands. A distress call has been received, origin unknown but broadcasting on known emergency frequency. Rig ship for rescue and general emergency. Medical Officer, make ready for triage. Vehicle Chief, muster casualty EVA teams and prepare to disembark. All off-watch personnel report to Vehicle Bay and form salvage parties.”

The engineering officer, never breaking eye contact with his panel, walked to the “ship’s signal panel” and sounded the “general emergency” alarm, the claxon sounding while the lighting in maneuvering gradually shifted to a pale yellow. The engineer’s ship diagram began to pop with yellow information boxes as each space made reports to the bridge they were rigged and prepared for rescue and general emergency. The bridge became a hive of activity, the panel operators changing their displays to the Immediately Mission Critical (IMC) configurations and donning headsets, their reports and now-constant communicatioin only elevating the humm of energy in the space.

Ryder span at his desk, deftly pulling up navigational maps, rescue procedures, initiating a signal identification program. His heart pounded as he felt his senses hone to a state of focused energy. Without noticing he stood up straighter, his jaw set as his eyes looked at the galaxy map with steely focus.

SSV Geneva, 2181

The bridge doors smoothly opened as 1st Lieutenant Wes Ryder walked through the doors into the room. Dim blue lights illuminated the room, but only enough to make out the open pathways as the blackness of space dominated the forwards wall. The room hummed with the omnipresent sound of the ventiallation and the beeps from the various terminals, but as Ryder approached the galaxy map terminal, one sound in-particular pierced through the low din.

Commander Barkley, ship’s executive officer, was standing next to the officer of the deck – Lieutenant Whitmore – as Ryder approached. He turned around, the red five o’clock shadow accentuating the cut jawline beneath his metallic grey eyes.

“Lieutenant, good of you to join us. Did you hear what’s going on?”

Ryder alighted the platform, looking at the blinking red distress signal as he did so.

“No sir, last I heard was just you calling me to the bridge.”

“Good. Tell me, what do you see?” The XO gestured at the galaxy map, scrutinizing Ryder’s face with eyes which had spent more time staring at stars than sky.

Wes looked at the map, his eyes taking in the current ship’s position, the blinking red dot which he had seen when he walked up. Only a few weeks into his officer of the deck qualifications, he tried to pull as much information from the display as he could, struggling to piece together the disparate parts. He spoke, slowly, unsure of himself, eyes darting quickly between the XO’s face and the map infront of him.

“Well, sir… it’s a distress call… bearing 270 tau 195 to galactic center and axis…”

The XO corrected him flatly, his voice slicing through Ryder’s like a bullhorn through a symphony, squining as a jeweler scrutinizing a gem: “270 tau 195 GCA.”

“Uh, yes sir… 270 tau 195 GCA. Looks like it’ll take us off course by about one and a half clicks… estimated time of arrival in… four minutes… four and a half minutes if we steer for direct intercept.”

The Xo nodded, pleased but not impressed. “Alright. What are we required to do?”

Ryder’s eyes looked up, staring a hole through the ceiling while he tried to remember pages of galactic maritime law he was just barely familiar with.

“Well, it’s a distress call… so we’re required to render aid…”

“According to what article?”

“Article 155…?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” LT Whitmore stifled a giggle.

“An answer sir.”

“Wrong, article 127. Continue.”

Ryder shook his head, the blow to his confidence feeling almost physical. “We’re required to render aid, as a warship operating in neutral territory during peaceful passage… Unless our mission is of a humanitarian nature and responding could endager life or limb.”

The Xo nodded again. “Good. Are we on a humanitarian mission?”

Ryder smiled, proud of himself for his knowledge of the ship’s mission and capabilities. “Yes sir. We’re heading to an outer rim colony with medical supplies after an unknown pathogen outbreak.”

“Could deviating from this course risk life or limb?” Commander Barkley’s eyes became even more shrewd, staring straight into Ryder’s.

Ryder paused to think, weighing the reports he had read. _We don’t know the nature of the pathogen… last communication was four hours ago when they reported three dead due to unknown causes. Could be the pathogen, could be unrelated, the bodies were found outside the colony. It is a distress call, but we’re already on a humanitarian mission…_

“Well, First Lieutenant?” The use of Ryder’s full rank stung him like a slap to the face and he almost stumbled back as if it were.

“Yes, sir, it could.”

Another executive nod. “Very good, Ryder.” Commander Barkley turned to Whitmore. “Lieutenant, I think you know what I’m about to say.”

The lieutenant nodded, gesturing Ryder up next to him on the podium. Before Ryder could say anything he began to speak.

“Status of the ship is as follows: All reactors are critical, electrical power is in a normal line-up. Steering course 255 tau 085 GCA, answering all ahead FTL 3. Distress call was received five minutes ago, bearing 270 tau 195 GCA, range 5 clicks. There are no outstanding orders, all stations stand ready for standard transit. Pending any questions, I am ready to be relieved.”

Wes was startled by the beginning of a turnover. He recognized the format, he was already qualified Engineering Officer of the Watch in the engineering plant -  this old ship still had the engineering officer standing watch off the bridge, but he was not expecting to be handing the watch when he was barely half way through his bridge qualls.

Behind him, the XO spoke, arms crossed skeptically. “Well, lieutenant?”

Ryder paused, his voice sounding small against the sounds of the bridge. “I have no questions, I… I relieve you.”

Whitmore nodded, saying “I stand relieved” while tapping on his omnitool. Ryder’s own tool soon lit up, the message “Command Privelege Transferred” appearing in bold red letters in front of him. He took a deep breath, then spoke with as much command as he could muster.

“Attention on the bridge: the Officer of the Deck is Commander Barkley with Lieutenant Ryder as Under Instruct.”

All the panel operators reported their acknowledgment, and then Ryder stood at the terminal as the low-buzz of standard transit operations filled the room. His heartbeat marked the seconds passing. Eventually, Commander Barkley spoke.

“Well, Lieutenant?”

Ryder spun around to look at him, his eyes white and his face pale.

“Sir, I’m not certain what I should do right now, I’ve never…”

With a gleam in his eye which was equal parts anger and enjoyment, Commander Barkley sharply cut him off.

“I don’t give half a damn, lieutenant. Command isn’t about doing exactly what you’ve done before, command is about making decisions. You have to operate with half the information you need, and a quarter of the information you want. You have the watch, I’m just here to make sure nobody dies.  Don’t look at me for help. Your watch, your ship. What are you going to do?”

Ryder hadn’t noticed, since the words had filled his ears from the beginning, but the XO’s voice had become a booming presence on the bridge, every panel operator turning around to look at him. Ryder tried to swallow.

“Well, Lieutenant?!”

Wes took a deep breath. _My watch, my ship._

He keyed his omnitool, cringing at the “ping” on the announcement circuit. He mustered his courage, all hands paused awaiting the announcement. Another breathe…

“Distress call received, rig ship for rescue and general emergency. Medical, make ready for triage…”

In the background, the XO began to smile.

IBT – 0715

The picture on the simulated viewscreen was not a pleasant one – interplanetary flotsam from the wrecked ship drifting aimlessly through the cold vacuum of space. They had carefully scanned the area, coming up behind he projected course of the wreck, trailing it as the science officer and Engineer relayed information to Ryder about what they were looking at. While the configuration didn’t match anything in the records, the hull materials and what markings could be distinguished seemed to indicate a Turian science vessel. Readings were inconclusive when it came to the nature of the damage – or the cause of loss – but the cloud of escape pods slowly floating away from the main wreck presented a more pressing issue.

His mind falling back on practiced Naval routine, Wes had adeptly piloted his simulated ship into a classic rescue position. The “rescue party” (in all reality three instructors sitting above him in a simulation room pretending to be a rescue party of 6) had recovered 14 rescue pods and were coaxing the survivors down. In the back of his mind, Wes new there were no rescue parties, no survivors, that the hysterics were simply instructions printed out on an instructor-only drill guide, but it took no stretch of imagination for him to imagine himself on the bridge of the Geneva almost six hundred years ago in an almost identical situation.

While he was checking his charts for the nearest colony at which to drop off the survivors, the engineering officer spoke up.

“Sir, you’ll want to see this.”

Wes took a look at his podium, the safety blanket of every Officer of the Deck. The first action any officer took on their first OOD watch was to stand behind the desk, invariably running their fingers over the smooth metal casings marveling at the power which this one station commanded. But soon that reverence evolved into reliance, and you had OOD’s who were loathe to leave the safety blanket of their galaxy map, couldn’t bear the thought of conferring with their operators. A now long-dead Commander Berkley’s voice rang in his ears – ‘Ryder, this podium is like a good Asari dancer – it’ll show you a good time in short spurts. But you stay with it too long, things start to go downhill fast.”

He walked aft to his engineer’s wall terminal.

“Report.” He had long since left behind any misconception that the curt directness of military protocol was impolite, indeed, for any experienced spacer it quickly became an expected and appreciated cadence.

“Sir, evaluations have come in from the wreckage. Reports show conventional mass effect canon damage, looks like an attack from three or four small vessels. Blast marks are too small for a ship any larger than a frigate, they can’t be far sir.”

Ryder took a look at the panel, scrutinizing the scans as his engineer’s fingers deftly displayed the relevant blast marks and spectrometry from him to see. He spoke over his shoulder.

“Science, no ships on LADAR?”

“Negative, sir. Six scans have shown negative.”

“Very well, science. Keep scanning, wide-band, long-range. If they’re hiding somewhere further away I want to know before they jump in. Helm, plot a course back to our main heading.”

Both stations returned a crisp “Aye, sir!” as Ryder turned back to the panel.

“Engineer, what’s your best range estimate on the assailants?”

“This wreckage is only 10 hours old sir. I’d say they couldn’t be farther than…”

The ship’s automated close-contact alarm blared, the bridge lighting turning an instant brilliant scarlet. The science officer’s voice rang clear and forceful through the room.

“Sir! Enemy vessels emerging from the wreckage! They cloaked themselves with flotsam. Looks like two.. check that, three vessels. Shots incoming.”

Mass effect fields deftly simulated the gut-wrenching change of momentum which came with round impacts in space. Before Ryder could issue any orders, a report came over the 4MC:

“Emergency Report, Emergency Report: Breach! Breach in Aux Electronics! Hull breach deck 3 of Aux Electronics between frames 37 and 38!”

Before the report had finished his omnitool was alight, orders streaming over the intercom, his words metered and calm but said with such force as demanded immediate action.

“Breach in Aux Electronics, Hostile Contacts Forwards. Action stations, action stations! Set condition 1 throughout the ship, rig ship for damage control and general emergency. Forward batteries make ready to fire. Secure all EVA activities…”

Nexus, Central Ring, Park #13- 1 day previous, 2330 hours

Much like the buildings which sprouted out of the ground of the central ring, none of the Nexus’ somewhat extensive parks and ecosystems had any names. Petitions had been signed to name a few, but none of them were official and almost all were still referred to by numbers. Each individual park consisted of a rectangle of planted grass, bordered by trees, with concrete paths leading to and from it, connecting it to other parts and walkways of the Nexus. From an aesthetic standpoint, it gave the inceasing population of the Nexus a convenient, if not almost natural, recreation area – a slice of home inside their new citadel. From a practical standpoint, they served as natural air filters, a necessary load off of the artificial air filtration system housed in the stations’ bowels

Ryder stared upwards at the simulated night sky, computer generated stars flickering when computerized specks of digital space dust passed in front of them. The ventilation system’s wind was convincing enough, though he doubted whether it was intentional, to create the effect of a summer’s night on Earth. Twilight had left a few illuminated squares on the walls of the towers around him – a station waking up, creating a home for itself. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the birds, the station, almost enough for him to think he was back in the Milky Way.

“You slipped off without me noticing.”

The voice shocked him, though he didn’t jump, simply smiling and laughing under his breath as he heard Vetra sit down next to him, staring up at the stars with him.

“I _am_ allowed to leave the ship without your permission, you know.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it you’re not.”

“And what if I don’t let you have anything to say about it.”

Wes didn’t have to open his eyes to see the wry smile in Vetra’s mandibles.

“Try and stop me, Wes Ryder.”

The “wind” rustled the trees around them, mostly human with a few asari thrown in for aesthetic pleasure. The smell of plastic and metal stored for 600 years was only barely omnipresent here. Vetra spoke, softly.

“You feeling ready?”

A single foreful exhale was most of his answer. “Not really.”

“I’m sure you’re more ready than you think.”

“Maybe.”

“I mean, you’re an alliance veteran. That means you’re good at all that… ship stuff, doesn’t it?”

That earned a full laugh from Ryder as he propped himself up on his elbows, looking at Vetra with an incredulous eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, we tended to get pretty good at all that ‘ship stuff’, as you so brilliantly put it.”

“So, you’ll do fine tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” Wes lowered himself back to the grass, privately relishing the sweet embrace of the almost-soil. “I always get nervous for something like this, right up until it actually starts.”

Vetra nodded, smiling slightly at every mission Wes had paced his cabin about for hours, before being the main focusing force on the team after setting foot off the tempest. The two sat there, for a few moments, both staring up at the stars above. Wes spoke first.

“You know, it’s funny.”

“What is?”

“We see a thousand times more stars than this from the bridge of the tempest. And yet, seeing them even simulated down here… it’s strangely comforting.”

Vetra smiled. “You’re just a big old… what’s the term… land blubber?”

Wes sat up again, looking at Vetra, equal parts confused and amused. “What did you just say?”

“You know, a land blubber… like from all those human movies about sailors?”

A hearty laugh put a smile on Ryder’s face. “Do you mean ‘land lubber’ ?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“I didn’t peg you as a fan of human nautical history.”

Vetra gently swatted the question out of the air before responding.

“I’m not. Not really, anyways. A human friend I made while hustling some gun mods back on the citadel recommended them to me. I watched a few. Always loved the drama of it… just a ship, a captain, their crew, and the whole ocean.”

“Turians had sailing vessels, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but never like that. For us, sailing was always this very regimented, controlled affair. Every vessel had an origin, a destination, a transit time. Tardiness was punished with fees upon arrival, voyages had to be scheduled months in advance.”

“You guys really went all out on the ‘disciplined society’ thing didn’t you?”

Vetra shrugged. “I guess when your backbone is just made up of a well-placed two by four…”

Wes laughed, Vetra joining in. Silence passed through for another few moments. Vetra looked over towards the silhouette of the Tempest, just barely visible overtop the trees.

“You know, it’s really awesome to see you up there on that bridge.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you up there a few times. No matter how humble or nervous you may be about it, you love it, I can tell. You’re a natural born leader, Wes, you’re happiest at the helm of a starship, you just don’t see it sometimes.”

Wes faltered, his smile at the compliment eroded by a current of self-doubt.

“Thanks, vetra. That’s nice to hear. But my dad, he was the…”

“Yeah, yeah: Alec Ryder was the real leader, you’re just filling his boots. Last time I checked, Wes, you’re the one who’s been the pathfinder longer. You’re the one leading the charge out there, pulling us along no matter how much we may not want to go”

Wes paused.

“I couldn’t do it without you.”

Vetra’s head turned, angled sideways as she processed the unexpected compliment.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said: I couldn’t do it without you.”

Vetra swatted the compliment out of the air again.

“You could find another requisitions officer with a big gun.”

Wes sat up all the way, turning to face Vetra.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Vetra looked him dead in the eye, this time, the pale light of nighttime in a bottle illuminating her pale plates, her eyes diamonds of reflected light in front of Wes’s. “You’re always there, supporting me, giving me a rock to hold onto when I need to steady myself, telling me I can when I can’t. Sure, I feel good when I’m on that bridge. But in the hours between… that’s when you prop me up, you make all this possible.”

He paused, collecting his thoughts before he spoke, the words spilling out of his mouth again before Vetra could come up with a retort.

“You’re always watching after all of us. Cora, Peebee, even Drax. Sure you order things, but you take your job a few dozen steps further than that. I’m scared we never thank-you enough for it. I can’t speak for anybody else, but I know, for myself, there’s no way I’d have been able to make it this far without you here to walk the path with me. I know I don’t thank-you enough for it, but I want to. I’ll make it up to you someway. Maybe we could…” the words faltered in his mouth, the romantic dinner for two which his imagination had been meticulously preparing for weeks sitting just inside his lips. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Vetra smiled, gratefully and a little sadly, as she listened to Ryder. She turned and moved closer to him, staring up at the sky as she sat close enough she could feel the heat radiate from his chest. After moments of silence she spoke.

“What’s the closest you’ve ever come to them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Back in the milky way… what’s the closest you ever came to walking among the stars?”

Ryder thought, weeks of long patrols punctuated by hours of sheer terror playing through his mind like an old screen projector.

“We were on another patrol through the outer rim. Nothing too fancy, not even a relief mission, just a freedom-of-navigation patrol. Everything was quiet, nothing on the scope, until suddenly – BAM – we were ambushed by a small fleet of batarian pirates.

They weren’t in anything bigger than a light skiff, and our defense batteries made short work of them, but they packed a bigger punch than you’d think. I was in my bunk at the time, when suddenly a hole was punched about 3 feet away from me. Damn slug must have cut straight through our running shields.

So there I was, laying in bed, with a 5” diameter breach sucking everything out of the space. And, wouldn’t you know it, it hit the gravity plating in their too. Well, I start getting pulled with everything towards it, and I’m only saved by the fact that I managed to land on it feet first.

I caught my helmet, but at this point the space was almost completely depressurized, and just as I lose consciousness I feel my mask click into place. I woke up 30 minutes later in sick bay, being treated for mild decompression sickness.”

“And you still went out after that.”

Wes looked at Vetra with earnest confusion.

“Of course. I mean, patrol wasn’t over. I’m not gonna pretend to be some gung ho hero, but I at least finish the jobs I’m there to do.”

Vetra’s smile was hidden by the darkness.

“You’ll do fine tomorrow Wes.”

Tempest, Captain’s Cabin – 0330 the morning of.

Wes lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his eyes bleary with hours of attempts to fall back asleep. His sheets were twisted into a single thick cord, thrown haphazardly across his body – _The entire ship is climate controlled to the tenth of a degree, and I still can’t find a comfortable temperature to sleep?!_

His mind began to turn over itself with a question which had been gnawing at him for the whole week.

_I should ask Vetra out again._

_Really? We’re gonna do this now?_

_I promised her a second date, and I haven’t even asked her yet._

_Wes, we have a Final Watch Board tomorrow morning._

_Besides, everything I said tonight about making it up to her…I mean, that’s not the only reason. But it’s a good trigger reason._

_Now is not the time._

_But what would I ask her to? Dinner? A vid? Sporting event? Do we even have sports?_

_Hello?! Am I talking to myself here?!_

_Well…_

_Never mind… not getting into that now._

_Maybe desert. That’s a classy date, right?_

_You mean, like, icre cream?_

_Yeah, something like that… do they make Turian ice cream?_

_They’ve got to have something…_

_We’ll be able to find something. It’s just casual enough to not put her under any pressure…_

_Just notable enough to definitely be a date…_

_But, what if it goes as poorly as last time._

_It won’t._

_Why not?_

_Because… it just won’t. Second time’s always easier._

_I don’t know. We’ll just get awkward again, force it places it shouldn’t go… I’m not certain this is a good idea._

_Alright, Wes, listen up. If you’re not going to listen to reason and go back to bed, at least listen to me now: Our last date was awkward, yes, but Vetra said she enjoyed it. We have no choice but to trust her here. If she says no, oh well, but we both know that won’t happen. Your heels are starting to fly over your head you’re falling for her so hard, so let’s get a move on._

_I guess…_

_If we can command a starship, we can ask a girl out._

_Alright._

Andromeda Initiative Messaging System V2.6

[Ryder](0348) Vetra, hey. I know it’s late, well, early I guess. But I can’t sleep, so you get to pay the price for it. So, here’s the deal. I told you tonight I wanted to try and at least make up for a fraction of the friend you’ve been for me these past few months. Come out for desert with me.. There’s a omni-amino desert place that’s just opened business. After my watch board tomorrow, if I pass, come with me to grab some coffee and ice cream (or whatever Turians have in place of ice cream) there. After that, maybe we can catch a vid or something. Anyways, point is – I promised you a second date. So here I am, asking you about it. Let me know tomorrow.

IBT – 0832

Captain Holbrook’s voice sounded over the announcement system, calm, painfully neutral.

“Mr. Ryder, this concludes your final watchboard. Please step off the bridge into the waiting room to await results.”

The bridge froze around him, all screens sticking in the position they were at before, the man emerging from behind the curtain. The panel operators took out their ear-pieces, stowing them under their terminals, not looking around at Ryder as he walked out the bridge access hatch.

The doors slid shut behind him as he stepped into a room which was almost scientifically bland in its design. The walls were the same sterile white as the rest of the station, the light seeming to come from no real discernible source as it spread out from behind the deck panels. The room itself was almost a perfect square, five feet by five feet, a door on three sides – one to the hallway outside, one to the IBT, and one to the stairs leading to the instructor station above. A single chair sat on the wall without a door, a sadly fake looking potted plant to the right of the chair. Ryder sat.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours, as Ryder’s mind left the bridge and his nerves came back. The iron in his eyes gave way to the nervous anticipation of a perpetual perfectionist and he rung his increasingly sweaty palms together. He could hear his heart beat in his ears.

The door from the instructor station opened, and Captain Holbrook walked through. If there were a better transcription of a classical sailing captain to the age of space travel, Ryder had not seen it. The man had well-combed snow white hair, parted neatly on his left-side, and a well-trimmed beard the same color completely covering all but his eyes. A set of storm-blue eyes stared out from his weathered face, the entire ensemble sitting atop a cream, cable knit sweater. The only item which could possibly place him in this century was the Andromeda Initiative insignia he wore on his left breast, and the omnitool bracelet on his left wrist.

As Holbrook walked into the room Ryder rose, his hands awkwardly falling to the best position he could find for them at his sides, his eyes scanning Holbrook’s face for any sign of approval or disappointment. He found none. The captain began to speak.

“Mr. Ryder, how do you feel it went?”

Wes swallowed his nerves, keeping his voice steady and confident by victory of will. “Well, sir, I think. I could have handled the later part of that combat better, but I think we were highly effective at bringing on the refugees. I bungled a bit of my response to hull breach, but overall I feel good about my performance.”

Holbrook just stared at Ryder, the steel blue staring straight through his confident veneer, and for a second Ryder would have sworn he was wearing 1st Lieutenant bars standing in front of the most intimidating XO he’d ever had.

“Good. You should be, son. Or should I say, captain.”

Ryder looked down at the extended hand as the beard-obscured mouth curled up into a heart-warming, genuine smile. He hesitated momentarily, before reaching out to shake it, his own face erupting into a broad smile.

“Thank you very much, sir!”

Elation lit his eyes as Holbrook left the room. It was all he could do not to jump for joy, hours, days, weeks of studying finally paying off with a title and a handshake. As he went to leave the room, his omntiool lit up. He looked down at it, Vetra’s name at the top of the message making his stomach do even more summersaults before he read it:

“Yes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, if you're surprised at getting this email again, it's because a commenter noticed that I had made a pretty large mistake - I had messed up Ryder's name! Don't hate me for it, and I promise I did still write him as Wes. I just forgot, in a moment of jet-lag haze, wrote "scott". So, I deleted the chapter to fix it in word (thank god for find and replace) and am now reposting. 
> 
> Like I said before, I wrote this primarily without access to internet, so I wasn't able to check the wiki nor my previous chapters. So, while I am always open to creative criticismsm, please let me know if there are any glaring differences or inconsistencies between this and the rest of the story. 
> 
> I've seen a few comments askin if I'm going to finish this fic. Short answer: yes. Long answer: I hate trying to force chapters, and really only like to write when I feel like there is ample inspiration. Sometimes, this means two chapters in a day. Sometimes it means months between chapters. So, I'll finish it eventually. Just might be a wire, or involve a change of timeline between/within the chapters. If you have any ideas you'd like to see or think would work, drop it to me in a comment. if I use it, I promise I'll credit you with it!
> 
> Regardless, as always, enjoy and feel free to drop a comment with your thoughts or questions!
> 
> Also, last thing - I'm thinking of starting a short fic of codex entries, explaining some of the head-canon I've developed which build up my stories so that there's a bit more background and available information. If that's something y'all would be interested in seeing, let me know! I've got a lot of head-canon (I mean a lot), but I don't want to write it if nobody is interested in reading it.
> 
> Update: I've started my own mini codex! I've been writing it mainly off of chapters in this fic, where I find an idea I wrote about behind which there's a larger idea. I haven't finished finding all relevant entries from this fic, but I'll make sure it's pretty comprehensive for every idea I introduce which isn't already explained in the series. I'm also going to go through this fic and put a bit in the comments directing readers to the codex entry. It's not much, but it gives some of the log. Behind some of the things I talk about in my writing which isn't in the game. I haven't read any of the comics or books, so if I contradict some of that, please let me know. Anyways, it's not much, but as always I hope you guys enjoy.


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